


The Centipede's Sting

by elegant_malice



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Action, Angst, Anxiety, Bloodshed, Crappy puns, Dark!Kaneki, Denial, Disturbing dreams, Emotional, Epic Bromance, F/M, Fights over coffee, Heartwreching madness, Hide is an awesome buddy, Incy wincy centipede, Kaneki and Kimi are trolling Nishiki, Kaneki is not a picture of mental health, Madness, Madness unleashed, Mayfly, Memory Loss, Memory cannibalisation, Nightmares, Nishiki takes a table to his face, Nishitty is a dark!Kaneki thing, Panic Attacks, Psychological, School Life, Slow Burn, Slow spiral towards insanity, Snark, Snarky!Hide, Snarky!Kaneki, Suicidal Thoughts, Touken, Tsukiyama does something (unexpectedly ridiculous), Violence, all the feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3214154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegant_malice/pseuds/elegant_malice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with half-ghouls is that something so unstable is going to break down one day... When Kaneki's ghoul side starts to devour his human memories, Kaneki starts forgetting things. And people. And Touka.</p><p>(Dark!Kaneki)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What this fic is going to contain: unsafe amounts of angst, significant amount of violence and bloodshed, Kaneki's heart wrenching spiral of madness for and Touka trying her damn best to help him (basically an action-acked, psychological and emotional TG fic). The ghouls and humans in Anteiku will also be appearing because they're all part of the awesomeness of TG.
> 
> Okay, now that my arrogance has gotten over itself, this fic is honestly just a modest attempt, a hesitant step into the unknown, written out of respect towards TG for a wonderful read.
> 
> Many thanks and fist bumps to my beta Charlie-the-Spider for weeding out all my grammar errors and plot holes. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What this fic is going to contain: unsafe amounts of angst, significant amount of violence and bloodshed, Kaneki's heart wrenching spiral of madness for and Touka trying her damn best to help him (basically an action-acked, psychological and emotional TG fic). The ghouls and humans in Anteiku will also be appearing because they're all part of the awesomeness of TG.
> 
> Okay, now that my arrogance has gotten over itself, this fic is honestly just a modest attempt, a hesitant step into the unknown, written out of respect towards TG for a wonderful read.

 

She didn't notice the signs.

At least, not at first. Maybe it was because it signified the end of this gentle soul, and the possible consequences too scary to behold so she'd shut it in a deep dark corner of her mind. Or maybe she was just a selfish person, pretending to be blind when the truth was staring at her right in the face all along.

But whatever the case was, she didn't really pick up on the changes until it was too late. There was nothing she could do now.

This was how it first began:

"What's your friend's name? The one who keeps coming here with you. Brown hair, orange and black jacket." The self-professed 'Devil Ape' asks.

With his flat face and spiky hairstyle, the similarity he shares with his nickname is becoming more apparent.

His sleeves rolled up, Kaneki is elbow deep into soapy waters where he is washing the plates. A troubled expression crosses his face, the faint brush of uncertainty.

"Hina? Hine? Hade?" He frowns. "Oh wait, it's Hide!"

Something that looks like relief flits through his eyes, too quickly to be noticed by anyone.

Enji Koma laughs and pats him on the shoulder, "Don't tell me your memory is failing you, Kaneki!"

Kaneki smiles, and doesn't reply.

"I'm older than you so surely your brain isn't rotting so quickly..." Enji teases.

"If that is true, then at least I won't have to ever remember meeting someone like you," he jokes weakly.

"You better remember me at least, Kaneki!"

"Not if I can help it. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"I did, and I must say, it's an impressive sight."

"Absolutely. Who knew anyone could look that ridiculous? You've outdone yourself."

Enji laughs boisterously, clapping him on the back.

"Either way, you're still going to remember me since I'm such a unique person. I'll take what I can!"

"It seems you're having some hearing problems since I've said it before: I can remember things just fine."

"Says the senile old man who can't remember his best friend's name."

"I don't care what you remember so long as you remember the customer's orders. Now get back to work, slackers!" Touka says sharply from the doorway, accustomed to the usual banter between the two.

When Kaneki first came to work, he was quiet and shy, only talking when he was asked a question. Enji, with his playful and open nature, constantly teased Kaneki and imagine everyone's surprise when Kaneki replied with a snarky remark one day. The look of surprise on Enji's face when he finally met his match was priceless. They have become good friends ever since, bonding over many conversations of mutual antagonism.

Exchanging grins with each other, they chorus in synchronisation, "Yes, ma'am!"

Rolling her eyes, she hides a fond smile behind her hand. "Idiots."

That was the first time and the signs were so small, she barely knew that it was one.

Yet, at that point in time, she brushed it off, ignoring the fact that Hide was practically Kaneki's only human friend. For him to have completely forgotten his name for a brief moment should send alarm bells ringing through her head.

The fact that it doesn't makes it worse.

* * *

His lapses became more frequent and he'd smiled and says something else, diverting the attention from him. And what did she do? She just played along with it. Excuses, that was all she ever gave to herself. She saw something she didn't want to see, and she made up an explanation for it, twisting logic and reasoning to create her own world where everything was normal and safe.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine!

_And it's all lies, lies, lies..._

"Oi, what are you doing here?" Touka asks.

They are standing the subway, both in their respective school uniforms.

"Um...It's the train?" He says.

She huffs and rolls her eyes. "Don't get snippy with me, wood louse. I meant why are you on this train. It doesn't go to your house."

"...it doesn't? Then what train do I take?"

"Are you a moron? The east train of course! It's a faster and a more direct way." Worry nags at her; it's not like Kaneki to forget his way home. She can tell he isn't lying.

A moment of silence pass before Kaneki mumbles, "Uh I wanted to take a more scenic route today. Just wanted some time to think on the train. Tough day." He looks away.

"Hmm whatever." That explained it then. Why he took a different route. Touka knows that feeling. It's like when she just needed some time to herself and her home just seemed too quiet, too oppressive. So trains and buses became her favourite places to dwell on her thoughts, where the surroundings prevented her from getting lost in the labyrinths of her mind and at the same time, the anonymity it provided made her just one in a million, insignificant, and as such, completely undisturbed by others.

Right now, she can see Kaneki's subdued anxiety in the way he holds himself. He grasps his bag straps tightly till the whites of his knuckle show and his eyes flick uneasily left and right. His other hand taps out a tattoo of tension on his leg as he schools his expression into one of polite boredom. And his eyes... There were eye bags under them and his skin was pale - well paler than usual.

Whatever is bothering Kaneki has taken its toll on him and Touka feels mild concern to her co-worker. Should she ask what's going on in his life? She's tempted too, really but...it's going to make her look like she cares about him. Like hell she does.

She doesn't want him to get the wrong impression. It occurs to her that Kaneki's emotional state is going to affect his quality of work which means he's more prone to screw up during his work shift at Anteiku and guess who has to clean up his mess? Yep, yours truly. So that settles it then. She needs him to be at his absolute best not shrivelling up like a wilted flower.

His moping isn't going to help him and as much as she understands his need to be alone with his thoughts; she knows that the mind can just as easily trap one inside.

"Are you a horse?" She snaps at him.

Startled from whatever dark thoughts that reside in his mind, Kaneki blinks at her a few times in confusion. "I'm sorry, a what?"

"I said, are you a horse?"

He frowns, "No."

"Then why the long face?"

For a second, a priceless expression steals his face. Eyes wide and jaw hanging open, he can hardly believe that Touka had just made a joke. And it was actually funny too.

He can't help it. He laughs.

It's a nice laugh too, a genuine sound of startled happiness that sends a surge of warmth in her core.

"Feeling better?" She asks wryly.

"Yea, thank you."

"Eh, I just didn't want you to go to work with a shitty expression on your face."

"Huh? I work?" He looks at her and the blank look of confusion in his eyes sends a stab of panic right in her gut. She can tell he's not lying, he really has no idea.

She has to act normal, "Don't screw around! You work at Anteiku as a waiter and I don't know why but you're shitty at your job even though I've told you so many times how to handle the customers and the cutlery." Annoyance seeps into her words, meant to cover the worry she has for the half-ghoul.

For a second, all she sees is the horrible emptiness in his eyes. And then, a spark of recognition flickers, a small flame barely there. Thank god, she thinks, thank god, for a moment there, I thought that he -

"Ahahaha...just joking, Touka. That look on your face was hilarious." He chokes out a laugh and gives a strained smile, trying to brush the whole thing off.

A part of her wants to reach over and throttle him, (another part of her is screaming that something is off with him, he's not himself, can't you see that he doesn't remember important things and you know this, don't lie to yourself, you know just what's going on - ) and another part of her wants to sigh in relief. Just a practical joke. Which she fell for. Like an idiot.

"You're going to pay for that!" She growls, and slams her school bag into his stomach where he lets out an  _oof!_

"Don't do that again, moron," she warns before returning to her place on the train.

"Yes, ma'am," he sighs.

Kaneki leans back on the seat, watching the scenery pass as the gentle rocking of the train soothes the anxiety in him. It feels pleasant, this tiny pocket of calm on the train, the low hum of the engine and the air-conditioning blowing a soft stream of air him. It's making him sleepy.

The rest of the journey passes in silence, Kaneki looking, for all intent and purpose, like he's dozing. If there's one thing Touka has a weak spot for, it's the peaceful expression on his face as he sleeps, trusting like a newborn cub.

What an idiot he is…Him and his stupid jokes.

_And it's all lies, lies, lies..._

* * *

The next one occurs as she is walking over to Kaneki's house to deliver some specially designed dried blood and coffee powder. It's a new thing that Yoshimura made, reducing the need for any blood cubes since the blood is already in the grounded coffee powder. But the taste is slightly off and Yoshimura is sending another test batch to Kaneki for him to try.

"Oh, Touka! I had no idea you were coming over" the raven haired male looks surprised as he opens the door.

Immediately, her ghoul nose detects the stench of blood and dirt wafting from his apartment.

"What are you doing inside?" She asks, trying to peer around the gap in the door.

Guilt is written all over his faces. "I er...got up and err..."

She can kick down the door and see for herself just what he is hiding but she likes to consider herself a (somewhat) civilised person who can settle this without resorting to violence. She gives him an unimpressed look.

"Uh...I was hungry," he blurts.

With just a lift of one eyebrow, she communicates to him silently,  _Explain._

He fidgets, positively nervous about the interrogation. "I felt hungry so I went to the cemetery to get some..." He winces and looks down as if ashamed, "Food."

That explained the smell of soil and dirt then.

Pleased by not having to shove her way into his apartment to find out the matter, she gives a nod. She knows some ghouls who have resorted to grave robbing in order to sate their appetites.

"You didn't leave any traces, did you? Or let anyone see you?"

"I did it last night, and I only took a small piece and I chose that grave because well, no one visited him."

She frowns. "Couldn't you have just gone to Anteiku to get your supply?"

"Ah... I just," he pauses and looks down, "I just didn't want to keep relying on your charity all the time."

"Don't be stupid, Anteiku exists for a reason. It's good that you want to be independent but avoid doing this in future. It's dangerous since the number of doves has increased."

"Mmh yea, I'll keep that in mind. Hey Touka?" There is a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"What?"

"Could you not tell anyone about this? It's my first and last time. I'm sorry! I didn't know."

She sighs and waves her hand dismissively, "Yea yea, whatever."

"Thanks," and he gives her a warm smile that sends her heart going double time. Tch, she shouldn't have drunk so much coffee just now.

Then she remembers about the experimental batch and shoves it into his hands.

"Test batch 16."

As she passes over the tin, she realises that his fingernails are coated with bits of blood and gore.

Before she can think too much into this, Kaneki is wishing her a good day and closing the door.

_Huh, that's weird._

But the eccentricities of a half-ghoul are beyond her concern. She has other things to do like her ten page essay which is due tomorrow. Ugh...

As she makes her way down to the first level, the usual stink of garbage makes her wrinkle her nose. But wait! She pauses.

She walks over to the bins again, her sensitive nose catching the smell of blood and soil. The exact scent from his apartment. Her curiosity pique, she pokes around the rubbish and finds a black trash bag full of dead crows. The smell that was present in Kaneki's house assaults her.

_The hell is this?_

The bag contains 7 of the birds with their eyes gouged out and intestines torn out from their body. Their wings are twisted to a broken angle, legs ripped out from their sockets and their open beaks trapped in a silent scream.

But the soil smell doesn't come from them. She peers deeper into the bag and finds a severed human hand. She makes the connection.

Crows are carrion eaters and it seems that someone has dug up the hand from a cemetery to lure the birds to a horrible demise. What throws her off the most is that none of the birds' meat was gone. She would have thought that they would be eaten at least, but she can't even find a single bite mark. Why go to all the trouble to attract these birds if their flesh wasn't used? It's as if the main purpose of catching the crows was just to torture them.

And yet, the smell was present in Kaneki's house but that doesn't. Make. Sense.

Kaneki is one of the kindest and gentlest person she knows. He would  _never_  torture any living things and she has seen him feeding stray cats little strips of meat and throwing breadcrumbs for the birds before.

Utterly confused, she stares at the bag for a few moments before tying it up securely and stashing it below the other trash bags.

She types a message and sends it to him.  _Possible sadist near your house. Keep a lookout, dumbass._  Of course it can't be him. He said he was hungry right? And a hungry ghoul always eats flesh when it's present. The severed hand in the bag only contains small pecks from the crows, nothing to suggest a human or a ghoul could have bit into it.

She's not overly worried. After all, what's a person with a sick fetish compared to a ghoul who can kill a human in two seconds flat?

Her phone chimes and she reads.  _There is? Uh how do you know that?_

She doesn't think he would like to hear about her grisly find. There's no point upsetting him over this.

_Ugh, never mind. Just don't trust your neighbours._

_Um...ok?_

_You better, idiot._

And back home watching his phone light up with a message from Touka, Kaneki gives a small smile and whispers, "I wonder who's the idiot here."

* * *

The last incident felt like ice water drenching her from head to toe. At first, the cold was more of a shock than anything. It wasn't until later did she realised she was shaking, her teeth was chattering and her muscles locked tight in spasms. Her body betraying her even as she had felt nothing at first. It felt like that.

Kaneki and her are fighting with another ghoul that has gone rogue and succumbed to bloodlust. That kind of ghoul is nothing more than just a feral dog; completely mad, immensely vicious and better for all involved to be put down.

She blocks the only exit in the alley, slashing and cutting it so that it takes one step back, and another.

As she slices across the mad ghoul's kagune, it shrieks at her and goes for her throat. She dodges and kick at its stomach. It spits at her, an acid liquid that barely misses her head.

Meanwhile, Touka knows that Kaneki is waiting patiently in the shadows and bidding his time to strike. They have discussed their plan: Touka would slowly push the ghoul back to the end of the alley and Kaneki would kill it. Things seems to be going exactly as planned which makes it great. There's going to be an online meet up to discuss her group project with her classmates and at the rate they're going, she can be back home with plenty of minutes to spare. Score one for efficiency.

When the ghoul steps back onto a shadowed patch, a blood red tendril lashes out and wraps around the injured ghoul's arm. With a sickening pop, Kaneki wrenches it off and the ghoul's shriek pierces the night air. It sinks to the ground, a clawed arm around the gaping wound on its shoulder.

It's only because they have lured it to a deserted area that no one has called the police yet. Or worse, the Doves.

Kaneki advances and the ghoul hisses.

As he stops only a few paces away from it, one of his kagune latches onto its shoulder wound gently, as if caressing it and then with a jerk, the kagune  _twists._

It screams, as wounded flesh distort and rip from each other, a horrible wet squelching noise.

"Scream like a pig," Kaneki sneers, dark, dark eyes filled with disdain.

He takes a small step forward and it is enough for the rogue ghoul to scrabble away despite the pain.

For once, something that isn't madness shines in its demented eyes. It's fear.

"Can't let you run away, can I?" Kaneki singsongs, taking another deliberate step forward.

His kagune shoots forward and grips its right leg below the knee, and twists. Hard. The bone dislodges with a wet snap and the ghoul howls again. Kaneki does the same to its left foot, except he twists the leg two times on itself, skin shredding apart and bones cra-cra-cracking!

"What are you doing? Just kill it already!" Touka snaps.

She knows that ghouls can get a little caught up in bloodlust and hunger but she has never seen him act this way. She doesn't understand why he has suddenly gotten so sadistic. He's inflicting pain unnecessarily where a cleanly-delivered cut across its neck would have sufficed.

Kaneki gives a slow and terrible smile.

"Alright."

One moment, the ghoul is on the ground. The next, its five feet in the air and  _all_  of Kaneki's kagune are pierced through its stomach. Blood splatters down on the ground as the ghoul gives a choked gasp.

And then she sees that some of Kaneki's tendrils are shifting and pulsating. The rogue ghoul's skin stretches and bulges, before splitting open like rotten fruits, thick red bands of worms wriggling through.

Pieces of flesh rain down on them, the heavy tang of blood coating the atmosphere.

Touka has to swallow her bile.

Kaneki flicks his kagune and the remains of the ghoul splatter against the grey concrete walls.

His kagune slides back towards him as he turns to face her, "Mission accomplished."

He grins, teeth gleaming white and Touka is suddenly reminded of a wolf baring its fangs

Fear niggles in the base of her spine but she pushes it down. This is Kaneki. He would never hurt her.

"What was that for?" Without meaning to, she lets a note of worry bleed into her tone.

He lifts one insolent eyebrow. "Just felt like it."

"This isn't you." She says and it feels right, somehow. Like the person in front of her isn't the shy and gentle boy she knows.

"Which university do you go to?" She asks, crossing her arms.

"Does it matter?" He's not even looking at her, just examining his kagune and wiping away any sticky bits of flesh.

"Yes," she snaps.

"Oh," he shrugs, "I can't remember." Looking entirely unconcerned, he adds as an afterthought, "Honestly, I don't really care."

And that settles it. The offhand manner which he reacted. As if his memories don't matter. Her mind races and races and she comes to a sickening realization. It seems quite possible and it's just a theory but she still feels herself growing cold with conviction. All the incidents that happened so far had pointed towards it but she had lied to herself all this time, coming up with her own excuses and denying it because she was too much a coward to admit it. But the truth is staring right at her now and she can't pretend anymore. Memory cannibalisation.

Faintly, she says, "Your ghoul side is devouring your human memories, isn't it? Y-y-you're slowly forgetting your life as a human."

When he doesn't reply, Touka almost loses it.  _At least deny it,_  she wants to scream.  _At least act like it matters._  But all that passes through her lips is just a muffled sob.

So she's right then.

Silence hangs thick and heavy in the air. It's only after a lengthy pause that Kaneki says, "It's funny but somehow, I'm not scared or sad about it." He looks up and gives a heart-breaking smile, all gentle curves and sweet sincerity. It hurts because it's the smile Kaneki gives to those whom he is close to, those that he has come to trust and like very much. Touka doesn't know when is the next time she'll ever see this smile again, if even at all.

Memories devouring memories. What is going to be left of him?

He turns around, faces his back to her, the sprawling mass of his kagune undulating gently.

She knows that his hair is black but for a moment, when the moonlight catches his figure, she swears that she sees white strands in his hair.

"Goodnight Touka," he calls over his shoulder but all she hears as she stares at his steadily diminishing back is  _Goodbye Touka_.

She feels like a puppet whose strings have been cut, numb and boneless and absolutely helpless. Her knees give way and she slumps to the ground, her whole mind whirling with tumultuous emotions.

She stays there for a long time, blood soaking her clothes and the gritty concrete below her legs.

Slowly, she turns her head to the side, sees the blood-stained walls, sees the horror unleashed on this night of the full moon.

And that's when the tears begin to slide down her cheeks because she should have known (she knew, deep down in the places she had refused to look, she knew).

It was everywhere, screaming at her in lurid red letters but she had been too blind, too scared.

The signs were everywhere… but Kaneki was already gone.

* * *

It's only the next day does she sees the news report on Nishiki's and Kimi's death.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've enjoyed writing this fic as I get to bring in elements of horror and angst and bloodshed and of course, how could I forget, TouKen. How did you find this chapter so far? Are the charactes OOC and what do you think of the plot? Any thoughts/comments/constructive criticism are always appreciated; it's nice to hear from readers after all :)
> 
> The next chapter is in the process of being written (I'm talking 7K words in, how's that for productivity?) and it's going to explain the last line of this chapter from Kaneki's pov in greater detail. Excited? I sure am, but give me a little time to iron out the plot holes. It has to be spectacular, ya know?


	2. First Taint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Incy wincy centipede

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a long wait, I know, and I'm really sorry about that! BUT, I haven't been lazing around on a beach drinking pina coladas even though that sure sounds nice. Instead, after various edits, the whole plot has been given the holy and golden seal of approval. What that means is that I'm not staring at the screen waiting in vain for some inspiration to spring out like a sucker punch. In actual fact, all I need to do is get my sorry ass to write the chapters out. And let me tell you, these chapters are long. So, a little waiting time would be expected. Hope you don't mind
> 
> In any case, for the first chapter to get a sizable number of favourites/follows/reviews is just wow. No really, I didn't expect this. Thank you to the various humans, humanoid beasts, artificial intelligence or any other life forms on this planet who read and enjoyed this fic. This chapter was great fun to write ^^
> 
> Thanks to June Ellie for being my First Reader and giving comments on madness progression. For being such a huge help in plot discussions, grammar and character development, thank you to my wonderful beta Charlie-the-Spider.
> 
> Chapter 2 takes place concurrently with the first chapter, except this time, it's from Kaneki's pov. Enjoy!

 

"Onii-chan, can we go to the bookstore?" It's Hinami who asks, small hands slipping into his and eyes wide and beseeching. He thinks that he really can't say no to her, not after the death of her parents where happiness had been such a distant concept. Now it exudes from her pores and the way she smiles, as if a Sun is lighting her up from within. It's funny how things have changed…She's not the only one who has, he knows that. There's the buried knowledge festering inside of him, of red flowers blooming over mouldering grey corpses.

But.

He's still here. He's still alive. He's still smiling.

(Not for long, though.)

"Of course," he says, and runs a hand through her hair.

It's dangerous to believe that nothing has changed – it's even more dangerous to act like it. He had brushed it off, lied to himself that everything was fine, even if he had felt strange thoughts sliding through his mind like the wet press of a bloodied hand. But, he's fine (he still is, really) and other than the occasional bouts of haze that shroud his mind, the alien words that sometimes slip into his thought-patterns seamlessly as well as the dark echoes in his head, he can continue to lie to himself and believe it.

This way, if no one knows about this, then he's not hurting anyone.

Kaneki takes her by the hand and leads her to the bookstore, where they made sure to look both ways before crossing the street.

* * *

He wakes up on a soft bed, sunlight gently filtering in the curtain and basking him in a golden glow. It's warm and nice so he rolls over and cracks open an eye.

The room he finds himself in is messy with scrawled writings on papers that are strewn haphazardly around. The walls are a dull green, like the lifeless glaze of a dead sea-coral. Books adorn the apartment; they lay snug in the shelves and languidly on the sofa, under the covers and piled up high on tables.

Whoever lives here sure must like books, he thinks.

He gets off the bed, ambling over to the toilet. A quick peek inside shows a lone toothbrush sitting in a cup. Shrugging, he walks to the windows and peers out of them on tiptoes: trees swaying gently under the warm rays of the sun, a row of houses with well-kept gardens and on a pathway between them, a black cat lazes around with half-lidded eyes. It yawns, pink tongue poking out of its mouth before it closes its jaws with a snap of its teeth.

Seems like a nice neighbourhood. It's pretty quiet too. Peaceful.

The blank fuzzy patch residing in his mind buzzes pleasantly.

He turns around and walks deeper into the house. The kitchen seems to be low on food. In fact, the only things he can find are just row after row of coffee tins. Curious.

Shaking his head, he steps out to the main hall and picks up a book that is lying face down on the table. In black spidery handwriting, the cover reads 'The Black Goat's Egg'.

Huh, it looks familiar. Perhaps he has read it before. Let's see…it's something about a boy realising his mother was an assassin and finding the same dark urges in him. Frightened, he'd tried to fight it but he ended up succumbing to the nameless demon that lived inside of him.

He supposes it was a good read, he likes that there were plenty of grey areas portrayed in human nature. It sort of reminds him of being a ghoul, actually. For a human author, Takatsuki Sen is surprisingly accurate.

Mmh, it sure is a nice place over here – wherever here is.

Putting the book down, Kaneki looks up -

\- and freezes.

This is  _his_  book.

This is  _his_  room.

This is  _his_  house.

And he had  _forgotten_ all about them.

The air leaves his lungs and he can't breathe.

He knows he has holes in his memories, and it had just happened. Where he didn't recognise his surroundings and he all he felt was this ocean of peace, as if everything was normal, the missing chunks in his head no more a nuisance than a fly is to a lion. It was only after the moment had passed did the fear and uncertainty set in, where he began to question his own sanity.

Talking to someone about it would make sense. Yoshimura especially, with his ageless wisdom and experience. Touka, who may not know much, but her usual brash manner calms him down. Inori, the information broker who has been generous up till now. These are the people that can alleviate the horrible feelings of helplessness and despair – but these are the people he is going to worry.

Dumping the whole load of his problem on them seems too demanding of him. They have their own things to deal with; they don't need the problems of a half-ghoul to further compound it. They say knowledge is power, but they don't say that said power can be used to worry others unnecessarily.

He may not like what's happening to him but he can bear it. He hasn't hurt anyone with his temporary memory lapses - yet.

He strongly believes that in this case, ignorance is bliss.

(For now, at least.)

The last thing he remembered from yesterday night was that he was reading a chapter from his textbook for an upcoming test. For what felt like an eternity, he had been staring at the jumble of words that made no sense to him, and that was the seventh time he had been reading the same paragraph. He tugged on his hair and stood up in frustration, pacing the room in a bid to calm his mind and get back into the studying mood. Yet, it was to no avail as he collapsed back on the chair again to eye his textbook exasperatedly. It was then he heard a strange scratching sound in his ear.

 _Scritch scritch scritch,_  it went.

_Scritch scritch scritch._

He shook his head rapidly from side to side.

_Scritch scritch scritch._

Swivelling around, he searched his room, eyes darting from crevice to crevice.

_Scritch scritch scritch._

A crawling sensation under his skin caused him to look down at his hand but there was nothing. His skin was unblemished. But the merciless scratching and tugging felt like tiny needles under his skin, making it seem as if the seams of his flesh could split apart any moment and pour out a mass of insects. He couldn't help it; he screamed.

The next thing he knew, he woke up missing his memories that took a few minutes for him to regain. Pressing his knuckles to his eyes, he took a few deep breaths before looking up at the clock.

9.15am?

He stares at the clock in horror.

I'm late!

The test is today!

He grabs at whatever notes within reach and stashes them into his bag, rushing into the toilet to make himself look less like a dead eyed ghoul and more like a human (oh the irony, his brain quips, but right now, he has no time to appreciate any of this, so if his brain would focus on what the fastest way to get to school was, that would be most helpful!)

* * *

Thankfully, the teacher lets him take the test - even if he did slam open the door and burst into the room with wild eyes and messy hair, a string of apologies on his lips.

The teacher, Tsume-sensei, gestures impatiently for him to take a seat, which he does with relief. He checks the board and sees that it is a written book test.

Hardly believing his luck, he digs around in his bag for the relevant notes. He doesn't think he can remember what he studied anyway. As he pulls them out, the first thing he notices is that they're red. So very red. Frowning, he looks closer and realises that no, he didn't use his notes as a rag to soak up blood. Instead, it's just red ink and there are words scrawled in a shaky and spidery handwriting. There are sentences and paragraphs written in them but they don't make any sense. A quick frantic flip of his pages shows all the pages are covered by the same mysterious writings. There was one particular poem that kept repeating itself throughout.

_Creepy crawly,_

_Up my eye-sies,_

_Digging digging_

_Into my brain._

What? He scans the others nonsensical things written in there:

_It's a-scratching, a-tapping and I can't count the legs. So many legs. Crawling in my head._

_Why is the wind, why is the sea, why is the centipede crawling in me._

_Incy wincy centipede crawling in me,_

_Up goes my blood and down goes my brain,_

_Out came the centipede and ate up all my pain_

_And incy wincy centipede crawling up again!_

The last one reminds him of a song he had heard when he was young: Incy wincy spider. Humming the tune under his breath, he finds that the words actually fit with the song. He crumples the edges of the paper, paper crackling beneath his fingers.

Just a joke. Whoever it was thought that this would be funny. Hey, let's vandalise the notes Kaneki needs for the exam so he would flunk his ass out of university. He picks up his pen and reads the first question. His pen hovers hesitatingly over the paper as he reads the next question, and the next, and the next one after that. When he finishes looking through all the questions, he puts his pen down on the table and slumps against his chair. Kaneki gives a glance at his disfigured notes before looking away.

He can hear the dim thunder of his stormy black thoughts somewhere at the back of his head and it seems to be getting closer.

He could have aced test. He knows it. The answers were all in his notes but…

He'll find those people who did this, he'll find them and -

_crack_

Rip their arms out –

_crack_

Break their bones -

_crack_

"Shhhh!"

"Huh?" He looks up and realises the student in front of him is giving him a disgruntled look and putting a finger to his mouth. (So that's where that annoying sound came from.)

The person frowns once more before turning around.

_crack_

What was it with the world thinking that he can't do what he wants?

_crack_

It's not like he's hurting anybody. Disturb - perhaps. Disrupt - maybe. Destroy - well that's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it?

_crack_

The student whips around and glares at him.

_crack_

Kaneki smiles.

_crack_

If looks could kill, Kaneki would probably be a body riddled with arrows but he isn't. He's not hurting anyone so he can do whatever he wants. He's just cracking his fingers. Like the Cheshire cat, his smile stretches to the corners of his face.

_crack_

"Kaneki! Please maintain silence during the exams!" Tsume-sensei calls out sharply from the front, causing the raven hair male to immediately cease his finger cracking and duck his head, a faint flush on his cheek.

Meanwhile, the vermin in front of him shoots a smug look, arrogance lining his features. Kaneki briefly wonders what happens if he cracks that face in half then forcibly pushes the thought out of his head. Violence is never the answer. What is wrong with him?

Two hours later, the examinations end amidst the rustling of paper as students nervously check that they have answered all the questions. In some cases, some didn't even finish the paper and are either completely indifferent to it or slowly panicking, breaths shallow and clutching their pens with desperation in every white knuckles.

On a whim, Kaneki scrawls his name in red pen and hands it over with a defiant gleam in his eye. Tsume-sensei walks past and doesn't say a word, merely accepts his papers and walks on. It's probably for the best that she didn't make any comment. He doesn't think he can contain his laughter for long at the way she had first looked at the paper, then at him, brought the paper closer to her, opened her mouth - and promptly snapped it shut when she looked at him again.

Must be the smile, he thinks, and widens his grin.

As a quiet and studious person, the teachers have a good – if somewhat distant – impression of him. A pleasant student who takes great pride in his work. That's it. While it may seem as if he is being rebellious just this once, in actual fact, all he wants is a little more recognition from the teachers themselves. Besides, it's not like anyone is getting hurt. Harmless little stunts and jokes.

A long time ago, he would have balked in pulling these off, the notions so aberrant and foreign to him they would barely have crossed his mind. But having himself turned into a ghoul really does shake things loose in his head, you know?

He just needs some excitement of the  _harmless_  variety.

After the all papers have been collected, the vermin in front of him walks over to his desk.

"I would appreciate it if you could stop being a nuisance."

The guy is shorter than Kaneki and the large frame of his spectacles merely highlights how big and clunky they look on his face. He's skinny as a pole but the way he walks is a smooth swagger, hinting of lithe and supply muscles underneath his baggy clothes. He looms over the seated ghoul and glares down at him with beady eyes behind his red rimmed spectacles.

"Okay," Kaneki nods.

_crack_

From that sound alone, it's enough to cause a vein to visibly throb in the corner of that student's forehead, the bluish-red colour standing starkly in contrast with his pale skin.

"You're doing this on purpose," he grits out and slams a fist on the table.

Kaneki gives him a completely unimpressed look.

"You better watch out," the vermin stabs a finger at him before stalking off, clearly annoyed that his intimidating tactic was a complete failure.

_Violence is never the answer, but it sure is a nice indulgence._

As he watches his departure, he wonders then what it would take to crush his skull. Shatter the bones. Dig out his eyes. Eat them. Would it taste sweet?

His eyes widen as he realises just what he was thinking about. Kaneki digs his fingers into his scalp and scratches furiously, the habit entirely a part of him that he doesn't really think of it.

He has to control his thoughts properly. There are strange things rattling inside and he can't let them out. And yet, they still do.

It had felt like the warm and wet press of a bloodied hand on the back of his neck, fingers pressing into his brains and sending streams of thoughts in there, a virus entering a body. It was an experience that he never wants to relive again but something tells him this won't be the last time.

 _Control yourself,_ he mentally berates,  _This isn't you!_

_My name is Kaneki Ken and I do not wish harm on my classmates. I don't._

He gathers his belongings with shaky hands and quickly heads out the door.

* * *

The corridor is filled with groups of students chattering and discussing aspects of their lives and their school work. In some cases, the two are synonymous and we can only offer our condolences. The multitudes of conversations meld into an incomprehensible din that hovers at the back of his mind like white noise. He tries to squeeze past a group of girls but ends up getting jostled and pushed around, so he clings to the sides of the walkway, and makes his slow and steady way to the school library where things are blessedly quieter and less crowded.

He's just about to put his bag down on the empty table at the library when all of a sudden, a boy with fiery hair pops out and grins, "Heya Kaneki!"

He finds himself smiling at his childhood friend; he always seemed to have an uncanny knack of finding him no matter where he goes. "Hello Hide."

"Mind if I sit here?"

The question itself is redundant for they are the best of friends, diametrically opposed yet balancing each other like counterweights. Hide asks with an open grin and a gesture to the chair while Kaneki always nods, accepts the hand of friendship that's always extended towards him. Theirs is an old story.

Hide sits next to him as they begin to pull out their notes from their bag.

"What's that?"

"Oh, this?" He looks at the vandalised notes before handing it over. "Someone wrote this, no idea who."

"That's nasty," he comments, flipping through the papers and finding it unsalvageable and beyond recognition.

"You pissed off someone?"

Kaneki shakes his head.

"Just be extra cautious around people who ask to lend them your notes. Mind if I take this with me? Super sleuth Hide is going to get to the bottom of this!" he brandishes the papers and strikes a pose, causing the bookworm to chuckle at the antics of his friend.

"Yea, sure."

"Anyway, can we go to Anteiku after this? I want to see Touka-chan again. Ah, she's just so cute." Hearts dance around the besotted male's eyes. "You think she's cute, right, Kaneki?"

The image of her raging after another of his mistakes sends a shudder through his spine but this is Hide, and well, he's always the most funny when he has a crush on someone. The theatrics and the soliloquy, all part of the misguided - if amusing - way he deals with anyone he takes an interest in. It'll fade in time like all his previous crushes do so he doesn't mind indulging his friend a bit.

"Yea, she is."

"Oh, you agreed!" He rocks back in his chair like a kid high on sugar and sends a sly look at his friend. "You like her too, huh?"

It's a simple question with an obvious answer but somehow in that moment, he finds himself remembering the way the lights cast a gentle glow on her silhouette as she leans against the door, a small curl of her lips as she watches Hinami reading a book aloud.

"N-n-no, I don't," he says hurriedly and scratches his chin.

The movement does not go unnoticed.

Hide narrows his eyes and puts a hand to his heart, faking a stab wound on his chest, "My best friend is my rival in love. Oh, woe is me!" he cries.

"Ah no, that's not true, Hide." He lifts his hands in surrender, trying to calm his friend down but Hide is having none of it, writhing on the table and making gross sobbing noises. Some days, Hide can be such a drama queen but he finds himself smiling at the – usual - melodrama. Leave it to Hide to embarrass himself in public and not care what others are thinking.

"Young man, please maintain silence in the library. People are here to read, not to watch a performer in his death throes!" The sharp voice of the head library cuts through Hide's soulful sorrow and he lifts up his head like an attentive dog, eyes bright and his head tilted to the left, and gives her an apologetic grin. "Sorry."

Mollified with his apology - Hide's smile seems to have that effect on everybody - she gives a huff and walks off.

The two boys share a look, Kaneki mouthing 'death throes' and they dissolve in stifled giggles like the true kids they are at heart.

When they have gotten over the hilarity of that moment, Hide suddenly leans forward with his eyes deathly serious, "It's your mother's anniversary coming up, have you bought the items?"

Mother's anniversary? Why would she need an anniversary? Did he miss something? He hesitates and the pause in their conversations begins to stretch uncomfortably.

"Kaneki?" There's genuine confusion in Hide's eyes.

"Huh?"

"Did you get the things?' He says slowly.

Kaneki flounders for a moment, mind desperately searching for something to reply with. His neurones fire spastically as the electrical impulses speeds through his brain, sparking and flashing as they go down each neural pathway but all he's coming up with now is just a giant blank.

"Um excuse me, do you know where I can find the Literature section? It's my first time in the library." The voice was soft and they turn in synchrony to see who it is. A girl in a lilac dress with cascading black hair stands at the corner, hands folded in front of her and looking at the floor.

Kaneki stands up immediately, "Oh, it's this way."

He guides the shy girl to the relevant section and as he does, he mentally lets out a sigh at the timely distraction.

Once he has directed her to the correct area which is far, far, far away from Hide, she gives a quiet and sincere, "Thanks," before she steps closer to the shelves, the faint scent of lavender in the air.

The walk back to his table is a long one; he drags his feet and pauses along the way to flip through a few books that catches his eye. When he returns to the table, Hide is still there, busily poring over his notes.

"I thought you were never going to return," Hide starts.

Kaneki smiles, and asks, "What are you doing now?"

"Just a few notes for my test. They're going to test Macbeth and I'm sure they're going to touch on the theme of death again. Man," he complains, "Shakespeare must have been a pessimistic fellow."

With a small quirk of his lips, he's about to defend the author when the word registers in his mind.  _Death._

Like the flood gates opening, he remembers what it was that had stumped him previously.

"My mom's dead," he blurts, and there is a flood of images slamming into his brain, bringing him up-to-date to the current situation. More quietly he adds, "Yea, I got the flowers and the pinwheels are done."

He'd always liked pinwheels as a child and his mother would always make one for him to play with. They weren't simple ones made from paper; his mother had incorporated strings and sequins and various other trinkets to decorate the pinwheels with. It had brought him many moments of joy as his family wasn't well-off but as a five year old, the pinwheels had been his prized possession. It only stands to reason that he should make one for her during her anniversary, for all the times she had painstakingly crafted one for him – it's an equivalent exchange, after all.

Hide's eyes are soft and warm when he finally manages to lift his head.

"You want a moment?" He asks in a low voice filled with sympathy.

"It's alright. I know I should be used to it by now but it still hurts even after all these years."

A painful knuckle to his head makes Kaneki squawk in outrage, "Hide!"

With a cheerful grin, the male with bright brown hair replies, "No moping around, not on my watch!" and proceeds to start tickling his sides.

Not only is Kaneki a ticklish sort of guy, he is an extremely ticklish one. The gloomy thoughts that pervade his mind flee swiftly in the face of Hide's successful attempt to make him laugh.

Unsurprisingly, they get kick out of the library.

* * *

As Hide goes off for his classes, Kaneki walks along the deserted walkways of the west wing of his university. Being the residential areas for teachers, no student would like to see their professors more than they have to. It was this belief that made this section of his school to be relatively peaceful. However, Kaneki knows that at this time of the day, the teachers are more likely to be in their classes rather than their residence so a quiet atmosphere drifts languidly around the area.

A cool breeze grazes his cheek and he enjoys the way the wind feels like a caress, smoothing away the tension in his shoulders. Of all the things that could slip his mind, it was his mother's anniversary. On one hand, it was a temporary release – the weight of his mother's death didn't sit so heavy on his shoulders if he didn't know that she was gone. On the other, the fact that he couldn't remember that important incident sends a low-key panic blooming in his gut.

What if it gets worse? What if one day he can't remember Hide and Touka and Hinami and –

He cuts himself off.

There's no reason for him to worry unnecessarily. He's sure these memory lapses are only temporary. Must be all the stress and such, factors that lead to a  _temporary_  decrease in his cognition and mental recall abilities.

The pleasant chirping of a few sparrows distracts him from his thoughts and he notices that they hop around the tree branches and peer down at him with curious eyes and cocked heads, wings gently fluttering as they flit around from branch to branch.

They are sorta cute. Although... he couldn't say that for the other species.

His hand twitches.

He remembers the other kind of birds, the sly crafty ones with jet black plumage and eyes that seemed far too mocking for his liking. Every time he walked past them, they were cawing and making a nuisance of themselves and they were always laughing at him, always judging with coal black eyes. He had seethed and scratched at that itchy spot behind his ear whenever their harsh voices echoed in the air.

Crows, that's what they were called.

They didn't possess the elegance or the swiftness of the swans and sparrow. What those crows had were sharp and ugly beaks that they used to rip open rubbish bags and go digging through them with their claws, a whole murder of crows cawing raucously to one another. Lurking near the dumps and sewers, their feathers retained the stench of decomposing filth.

Every time he caught sight of them, he felt disgusted at their greasy feathers, their grating caws and the way they looked at him with supercilious arrogance.

He hated them and he scratched his head and yanked his hair and his fingers twitched as he thought about what he would do if he ever got hold of one of them.

And one day, he did.

In a feverish delirium, to finally have them at his mercy, made him tugged his hair in excitement. And so, even as a small part of him cried out  _no_ , the darker and more dominant part of him merely grinned and said  _YES_.

First came the scissors that went  _snick snick snick._  Then came the hammer that made the bones go  _cr-cr-crack_  throughout his house and lastly there was the needle which was quiet in its approach, but not in its execution.

Feathers drifted around and corpses littered his floor, black and red mingling, colours standing out starkly in contrast. He had disposed of their bodies and was about to clean the bloodstains at home when Touka had knocked on his door, and he scrambled madly to his feet, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes and lying through his teeth about where he got the blood from. Touka was suspicious, but she seemed to believe him and like the icing on the cake, she even thought that there was someone else in his building responsible for the crow's deaths. So he had grinned and laughed and pat himself on the back for the convincing act before he came back to himself, a sudden jerk in his thoughts.

He came back to himself (from where?) and his hands shook for  _days_  and bile rose up his throat as he recalled what he had done in that traitorous moment.

Just...what had overcome him?

He's still not sure but nothing could deny the gut-clenching excitement he had felt when he was in control of the situation. And that scares him more than anything in this world, the knowledge that sat heavy in his heart, demanding to be acknowledged, that he had  _liked_ it.

His sleep was haunted by crows and claws and beaks that opened to reveal maggots wriggling inside and it screamed and screeched at him and then  _he_ joined in the screaming and screaming and screaming.

When he saw Touka on the train one day after a particularly fitful night's sleep, he was just incredibly grateful for her presence and that she didn't make a mention of how horrible he had looked. She just took it all in her typical – pissed off – stride and well, something about being treated like normal (even though he's  _not_ ), made him rest a little easy on the train ride back.

It must have only been his imagination that Touka did look worried and – dare he say it? – concerned about him. But that's ridiculous, right? He's just Kaneki the half-ghoul, the one who can barely defend himself and is only a liability to those around him. He's just a nobody. Why would Touka think twice about him? Heck, why would she even care?

All he has brought to the ghouls at Anteiku is one more hungry mouth to feed and more trouble than he is worth. A burden, really.

The moment he reveals to any of them that he is suffering from whatever is happening to him, is the moment they might abandon him (just like his mother). And he can't have that; because these people mean a lot to him, and he will not burden them with his taint.

But it's okay, right? He's okay now.

He's feeling better and whatever happened was all just a really bad - and rather vivid - dream.

He's fine, absolutely, and no one needs to know what had transpired on that day.

Obviously because it  _didn't happen._

I mean, it couldn't have. He's a nice guy - everyone says so and sure the crows could get annoying from time to time but violence is never the answer. Not for him, at least.

Lost in his thoughts, someone suddenly shouts, "Look out!"

Before he can even lift his head, he collides into someone. The impact causes him to crash to the floor and he's more surprised at the suddenness of it than the pain of his rump meeting the floor at an accelerated pace.

The other person, who is in the same state as him, snarls, "Watch it, one eye brat!"

They get up and eye each other, Kaneki looking as ferocious as a kitten while Nishiki grits his teeth and stares him down.

"Nishiki! Apologise to Kaneki-kun immediately." From nowhere, a rolled up piece of newspaper slams down onto Nishiki's head with the force of an asteroid crashing down to Earth. Or, it feels like that anyway.

"Ouch! Watch it, woman!" Nishiki winces. If there's one thing Nishiki hates, it's being publicly chastised by an irate Kimi. Boy, can she shout. And hit. And induce mortal fear in him like nothing in this world can. It's a really terrifying experience. Addictive, too.

She stabs her finger at him, "I saw you walking into him so you should apologise!"

Ghouls are gifted with a certain level of self-preservation, definitely higher than of a human. It has aided them well in many fights as they gauge whether an opponent is worth the trouble to eliminate or to be left alone with a few broken bones. There are already so little of them, no point in trying to reduce their numbers to make it easier for the Doves to wipe them all out. As such, there comes a time when a ghoul knows that it is severely outclassed, outmanoeuvred and outmatched, and that the only thing that lies ahead is a slow and painful death should they choose to continue. This is one of them.

With an air of resignation, Nishiki turns around and face Kaneki.

"I'm sorry," he says in a contrite tone but away from the eyes of Kimi, he is practically glaring daggers at Kaneki, intent on trying to roast him alive from sheer willpower. It failed spectacularly, the effort resulting in him looking more constipated than usual.

"Oh, err, that's okay." Looking as if he wants to be anywhere but here, Kaneki takes a step back. He gives a wave at Kimi, who beams at him.

"Sorry you have to deal with his attitude. I hope he's not troubling you, is he?" The look she gives Nishiki is enough to make rampaging wildebeest pause in their tracks and make them do a 180 degrees turn. She then turns back to smile pleasantly at Kaneki. "It's okay, you can tell me anything. I can't thank you enough from rescuing me from that overdramatic purple-haired peacock."

"Ah, it's no problem. I'm really glad to have met you. Nishiki-senpai can be scary but he has such a nice girlfriend like yourself."

Senpai? Nishiki's eyebrows rise higher and higher. Since when did Kaneki ever call him that? And what's with that disturbing gleam in his eye?

"Oh ho, why thank you Kaneki-kun. Rest assured that I'll properly discipline him." Kimi says with a smile that looks far too innocent for someone about to boil him alive.

_Damn you, Kaneki._

"Oh...I don't think I should mention this..." He trails off and like a fish biting the bait - hook, line and sinker included - Kimi immediately encourages him.

"It's alright. You can tell me."

"Nishiki senpai...Nishiki senpai bullies me." He says it with so much hurt feelings that Nishiki knows to be an absolute lie. Just what the hell is that brat playing at? Further thoughts become irrelevant when she slowly turns around and fixes him with her death-glare, the one that spoke of stars dying and universes collapsing from the onslaught of her fury.

That  _brat._

"Oh, I'm late for class. It's really nice meeting both of you here. I hope we can catch up." He shoots a smirk at Nishiki, too fast for the human eye to catch but for a ghoul, enough to see the smugness radiating off him like a cat licking cream.

Enraged at the blatant manipulation, Nishiki makes a quick gesture which looks like there are ants in his pants but is in actual fact, communicating silently to Kaneki.  _4pm at the abandoned train house. You and me._

The message noted, Kaneki nods his head imperceptibly before making an awkward bow in front of his seniors and disappears around the corner.

With a gulp, he turns around to face her.

"Oh Nishiki~" it's the sound an executioner makes before slicing off a head.

"Yes?" He asks, trying to delay the inevitable.

"Could you tell me..."

"Uh-huh..." He says weakly.

"I think I may have heard wrongly..."

"Uh, listen." He gives a small desperate smile.

"WHY ARE YOU BULLYING KANEKI?"

Everyone within a one mile radius heard them. It is common knowledge that once Kimi starts something, she's going to chase it all the way down. There is no stopping her now.

Withering inside, Nishiki asks himself despairingly:  _Just why did I go and fall in love with this terror of a woman?_

* * *

At approximately 3.45pm, Kaneki is already there, idly twirling a grass stalk in his hands as he leans against a tree trunk, his eyes half-lidded. It is this scene that Nishiki approaches with curled fists and anger in his gaze.

"Just what was that?" He demands, without even saying a hello.

Kaneki finds it rather rude.

"Hello to you too, Nishiki." The grass stalk spins like a ballerina in his hands.

"She scolded me over something that  _I didn't do_."

"Oh." Twirling, spinning, pirouetting – his hands move elegantly and the stalk dances.

"She came this close to ripping my still beating heart out of my chest!" The distance between his thumb and index finer was small enough such that even a flea would be hard pressed to get through.

"Are you trying to get Kimi to kill me?' He asks, outrage lancing his voice.

"Yes," he says evenly. The stalk ceases its graceful dance and is placed on the grass. Kaneki finally looks up. "I thought we came here to fight, not to hear you whining. You're still alive, aren't you?" The words slither out of his mouth before their actual meaning could register. In the second that it takes to backtrack and comprehend just what he had said exactly - which is to place a death warrant on his head - is enough for Nishiki to swing a fist at him.

The abandoned train house they are in is exactly as it name suggest. It used to be a busy station, with people streaming in and out in droves but there was an incident with the fuel mechanism which caused the fuel to unknowingly leak out from some of the trains. A lit cigarette ignited a puddle of oil and as the saying goes, the rest was history. The area was a mark of shame and negligence, where innocent civilians lost their lives in an unfortunate incident. The Earth was scorched badly such that it gave off a foul smell, with sickly-looking trees that sprout sallow and limpid leaves grew around the area, the only signs of life. And so it was in a clearing the two ghouls found themselves, a bruise mark on Kaneki's face and a clearly, pissed off Nishiki looking as if the whole world had just insulted him, his mother and his entire bloodline.

Maybe it's the adrenaline, or how Kaneki can feel his bones knitting together from that punch, confident that he can take the damage with his enhanced healing abilities. Whatever it is, there is absolutely no reason for him to say, "You hit like a girl."

Nishiki's eyes darken in fury.

The enraged ghoul's kagune slides out and in a flash, a leg is aimed straight at Kaneki who barely dodges out of the way and in his haste to escape, he steps back too quickly, overbalances and falls to the ground (again).

From his waist, his kagune bursts out and lashes at Nishiki who nimbly twists out of the way.

Nishiki jumps to the air again and launches an aerial attack. Kaneki's kagune shoots forth into the sky and for a moment, it seems it's going to spear Nishiki right through. Then, Nishiki's bikaku flexes, adjusting his trajectory and sending a whiplash of wind as he drops like a rock.

He lands behind Kaneki and his feet barely touches the ground before he twists and kicks Kaneki right in his stomach. Hard. The impact causes his skin to ripple, the shockwave travelling throughout his body.

Kaneki spits out blood.

Another kick right at his knee shatters the bones and he falls to his knees, putting his weight on his uninjured leg, his kagune lashing around madly and he's screaming and screaming, he can feel the bone shards digging into his flesh and –

The last kick slams his head into the ground, leaving a sizable crater on the ground.

He blacks out. The fight is over before Kaneki could even launch his attack.

In the enfolding darkness, Kaneki can hear someone singing:

_Creeping up,_

_Crawling down,_

_Something is now,_

_Digging digging_

_Into my brain._

What a nice song, he thinks muzzily, and slides back into unconsciousness.

* * *

The first thing he hears is a ticking which irritates him deeply. He just wants some shuteye. Is that too much to ask?

The next thing he's aware of is a strange taste in his mouth. It's sweet.

Upon opening his eyes, he realises he's lying on a soft mattress in an unfamiliar room. The fan above whirls gently, blades cleanly slicing the air and ruffling his hair in the breeze. Footsteps on the floor and then a voice, "So you finally woke up, brat."

Nishiki steps into the room warily.

"Yeah," he runs his hand through his head and finds that the clothes he's wearing are loose upon his frame.

"Am I wearing your shirt?"

"Hmph, not my idea but you were bleeding all over the place so I brought you here."

"Here?"

Nishiki rolls his eyes, aggrieved, "My house. And don't thank me. Like I said, not my idea."

He looks down at his hands which are pale and slender, as if he had never stained them red before. "Then whose?"'

The person in question chooses this moment to make her presence known in the form of a bright smile and cheery voice as she enters the room. "Kaneki-kun, you're awake! Do you feel better?"

"Hello Kimi. I'm not too sure of what happened."

She walks over and sits next to him, "Well, this idiot here - "

"Hey!" Nishiki protests.

"We all know that's a fact," Kimi winks at the half-ghoul who smiles back, and continues, "This idiot here beat you up and you weren't healing too well so he called me. When I heard of what he did, I told him to bring you here to recover. You were injured quite badly so we gave you some food from Anteiku."

"Oh, thank you for your hospitality but," he looks up, head echoing with a strange undertone, "What's Anteiku?"

He knows he shouldn't have said that when they both give him a horrified look.

Nishiki is the first to break the spell; he crouches down in front of him and says, "He's our friend, remember?"

"Oh, right! Anteiku, I remember him!" he scratches his cheek, making him look like a young boy caught red-handed by his parents for breaking the family heirloom, "Sorry, I think my injuries are quite severe and it has caused a temporary memory lost. Do you mind if I excuse myself to the washroom?"

Nishiki gives him one more searching stare before he stands up, "Just walk all the way down. Last door."

As Kaneki makes his way out of the room, he feels two pairs of eyes digging into his back.

The two older people share a look. While one was filled with worry and concern, the other holds a glint of suspicion. Within Nishiki's mind, the tiny seed of doubt planted begins to grow a shoot. He had personally witness the young half-ghoul's regenerative capabilities, watching bones meld together and skin fuse. His actions were strange, he had noticed it a few days ago but it seems that Kaneki is getting worse.

Things were supposed to be fine for him, he looked physically and mentally fit and yet…

* * *

 _Stupid stupid stupid!_  He angrily slams his palm down on the sink.

He knew he shouldn't have said that! He can't help but feel like he had failed a test or something. It was just that at that point in time, his mind was blank. Empty. Barren.

A cave ringing with

And he said the first thing that popped out of his mouth.

He lets out a huff and looks up from the sink only to see his reflections staring back at him with wide eyes, a lightning strike of shock to his system.

Just what is he?

The more he looks at himself in the mirror, the more grotesque he looks. One of his eyes is black and crimson, violent and savage in its fierce glory and that's a _brilliant_ shade of red. But the other side of his eye is a terrible thing. It's brown. It's soft and most disgustingly, it's completely human.

It's just a weak human eye with its weak vision. He's a ghoul! Why should he have it? Touka and Nishiki and that freak Tsukiyama all have beautiful mad ghoul eyes and what does he get?

A useless pathetic eye.

The cancer in his mind; growing. Himself; fading. Woven into his thoughts, darkness bleeds and pulses.

Anyway, why does he have a human eye in the first place?

From before, he is reminded of his vandalised notes and a particular sentence seems quite prominent:

_Why is the wind why is the sea why is the centipede crawling in me._

A rumble of laughter emits from the other side of the door and he frowns in annoyance, the reason why he is inside here rushing to the front of his mind.

That damn Nishiki. He had wanted to kill him but ended up almost dead in just a matter of 3 hits from him. He's disgusted with himself and angry at that bikaku ghoul at the same time.

And that girl, Kimi, was it? Always so happy and smiling all the time. When he first saw how Nishiki had looked at her, he knew that in order to get to him, he had to get to her first. And what a delight to find out that he was completely wrapped around that girl's finger. And she's even helping him. Oh, what a day!

And then comes Nishiki and his need to prove his dominance, signalling him to meet out to fight him. He was confident (too confident!) and forgot that Nishiki isn't a brawl fighter. He actually uses that degraded thing in his head for something and that's to actually think! Kaneki has a weakness, it's his speed. His reflexes are decidedly less well-honed than an average ghoul, which was strange considering that he is a full blooded ghoul. Coupled with his adherence to eat as little meat as possible (Wait, why did he think that was a good idea in the first place?), he's weak.

_Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak , weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak._

And Nishiki had figured out his weakness and used it to his advantage, namely, to finish him off as quickly as possible. And he had succeeded. He can't accept that. He's not going to stand for it. He can't.

A sharp pain in his fingers makes him look down in surprise, the darkness in his head retreating momentarily.

There's blood down his forearms and blood on his chin and something that's deliciously sweet and crunchy in his mouth. He licks away the blood on his fingers and the ragged swelling on the end of them answers the question.

He'd  _bitten off_  his nails.

With morbid fascination, he watches them grow back slowly, tiny bits of cells that harden and take on the pink sheen of seashells. In moments, his regrown nails sit wholly formed and healthy on his hand. He washes away the blood and swallows the last of his nails, unknowingly licking his lips throughout.

Then it hits him.

I'm human.

I'm half-ghoul.

_Half._

Gripping tufts of his hair, he anxiously pulls at them. Why does he keep forgetting details from his life? They just vanish from his mind and he reappear again but within the period of blankness, there was indifference. Peace. Normality.

A few strands of black hair fall to the floor. He feels a little sick and disgusted at himself, at how he has no control on when his thoughts deviate and warp the world around him.

"I'm sorry," he says to empty air and it should mean something that he still feels regret and can verbalise his apology, albeit not in front of those he had unwittingly hurt.

And yet, the words taste strangely sickly and flat. As if they hold no meaning, just a jumble of words strung together to complete a sentence.

_My name is Kaneki Ken and I am a half-ghoul, and I will not hurt anyone._

He repeats it again. And again. Because if you keep repeating it, some things will inevitably stick, right?

It has to.

There's an unknown entity that steals his thoughts away and slips in its own taint like poisoned water into a river. He takes a moment to compose himself, slowly but surely sliding back into his own skin and thought patterns, finding familiarity in the own grooves of his mind, synapses firing up in synchronisation.

Kaneki unlocks the door and steps out.

He walks over to them, head bowed, "Kimi, Nishiki, I'm sorry for just now. I just want to say that I remember that Anteiku is the place where I work. Sorry to worry you guys."

Relief dances in Kimi's eyes and she hugs him tightly. "It's fine, we're just glad you're okay."

He allows himself to be fussed over by Kimi and from the corner of his eye, he can see that Nishiki doesn't trust him, can see the tensing of his muscles as if he can physically rip him away from this girl.

He doesn't quite blame Nishiki.

He doesn't trust himself too.

"Kaneki-kun, will you stay over for a little longer?"

He really doesn't need to turn his head to know that Nishiki is probably vehemently – but silently – objecting to her suggestion.

His head is telling him that he had better go back home and try to bring order to his thoughts, control the wild rein of madness that gurgles and seeps into every crevice of his personality. It would be a logical and reasonable thing to do, really.

Instead, he finds himself saying, "Sure, I don't mind."

Just goes to show that he isn't the master of his head.

Not anymore.

* * *

Dinner is surprisingly peaceful. As Kimi eats a bowl of noodle, she chats pleasantly with Kaneki on all matters of things with the occasional interjection from Nishiki who is rapidly comparing and dissecting how Kaneki moves, his guard on an all-time high.

When Kimi takes a large bite of her food, the two ghouls try not to let their disgust show on their faces.

As Kaneki talks to her, his eyes are drawn to her neck and he can almost hear the steady beat of her heart, pumping the precious blood throughout her body.

"What do you do in your free time?" he asks, dragging his eyes away from her neck.

"Well, I like to hang out with my friends. Just like what I'm doing with you now. I've always liked heart to heart talks and having friendships grow closer from that. Actually, it'll be more accurate to say that I just like to listen."

"Yea, that's the part I like most about you," Nishiki says, a fond smile smoothing away the tension in his face. She smiles back.

Her neck is facing towards him and he's so close, so close he can just reach out and take a -

"So Kaneki-kun, what are your hobbies?"

His eyes jerk up to her face and it takes a huge amount of willpower not to throw himself out of the window and get away from them.

"Oh, I like to read and …"  _Kill_  "…study literature." Knuckles whiten as his fingers wrap around the sides of his chair. "Also, I like to watch…"  _You scream and beg for mercy_  "… the clouds pass by, it's really relaxing." He gives a strained smile, "It's my idea of a perfect day."

"Kaneki." The sharp tone of Nishiki's voice makes Kimi turn to him in confusion.

"What is your favourite author's name?"

A pause and then, " _Takatsuki Sen."_

_"Favourite book?"_

_"The Black Goat's Egg."_

Both of them have a face off. The tension in the atmosphere is so thick it would take a chainsaw to cut through it.

But Nishiki looks away first.

"Hmph."

Kaneki's fingers twitch.

_crack_

Throughout the confrontation, Kimi just stares in confusion at both of them, "What's wrong?"

"It might be nothing..." Nishiki begins.

"Oh, that's a relief." Kimi sighs.

"But..."

Kaneki feels his muscles tense on their own accord, fingers wrapping around the sides of the chair with the force of an anaconda constricting its prey.

_crack_

"Somehow," Nishiki continues and quicksilver gleams in his eyes even in the sweltering heat, "I don't think you're really Kaneki, are you? You're too free with your actions and your motives don't align with the Kaneki I know. Don't even think of leaving here before you answer me: who exactly are you?"

In the silence following the announcement, Kimi is the one who pipes up, "Nishiki! Stop being so rude to-"

He glances at her and something in his face makes the words dry up in her mouth.

Kaneki can tell this is the deciding moment.

For such a nuisance, Ni _shitty_  can be disgustingly observant.

Still, the lady seems to be torn and unsure.

"I...I don't understand. I'm me, Kaneki" he implores and gives his best harmless smile. "Nishiki, what are you trying to say?"

"You heard me so I'm asking again: who exactly are you?" He punctuates the last word by slamming his fist on the table. "Kimi get behind me."

For an instance, she's torn between both of them and wants to put a stop to this madness but then she catches the expression on her boyfriend's face and thinks better of it.

_crack_

She mutely stands up and walks over to him while keeping her eyes train on Kaneki the whole time.

_crack_

Nishiki's eyes bleed over with black and red, and on his leg, his kagune curls over it. Pushing Kimi out of the room, he brushes his lips against her cheek and whispers, "Run."

By nature, Kimi isn't a coward but it feels like too much of a goodbye, the way his lips briefly presses against her cheek and his hand on her back, guiding her out. She turns to catch his face, sees black and red and black and red, and beyond the shock of the moment and fear for his safety, she thinks  _He's beautiful._

Then the door slams shut and the night air creeps into her lungs like an intruder.  _Get help_ , is the first imperative that comes to mind, followed by  _bring reinforcements_. She may not be sure what's going on but she trusts Nishiki above all things and she agrees with him that Kaneki felt rather off kilter with his strangely empty gaze and finger-cracking. She just hopes that they both don't kill each other before she arrives with help from Anteiku since they are the experts on ghouls being ghouls themselves. They'll think of something. Taking a deep breath, she sets off towards the cafe, heels clattering on the cement floor.

The night is still young, a breeze ghosting around trees and sending them rustling in the cool night air. Distantly, there is the hubbub of conversations and footsteps: people making their way home after work. But here, a quick glance at the tall buildings surrounded by swaying trees shows things to be peaceful and serene.

The world is quiet here. At a nearby lake, the surface of the water ripples: a frog slides into the water just as a curious fish pushes its head out, catching a glimpse of the star speckled sky before sinking into the liquid darkness. There is just the soft brush of the wind, the faint sweet smell of flowers and the rustling of leaves in the pleasant stillness.

Now past the façade of calm, a turquoise building on the streets has a rickety staircase that creaks and groans whenever someone presses their weight down. Above that is a narrow stretch of corridors. The third door on the left, a non-descript brown door with a few scratches on the wood has a metal door knob that is chilly to the touch, a biting cold that's caused by the low temperatures of its surroundings. It turns slowly, a barely-there creak and the door swings open.

The apartment is a scene straight out of a horror movie. Blood splatters on the walls, broken furniture as well as broken lights hanging from their exposed wires, glass shards underfoot. The whole area is cast in a flickering dim as a lone bulb chokes and sputters like a guttering candle.

And in the middle of it all, Kaneki stands.

He's grinning.

_crack_

The one good thing about getting defeated by Nishitty just this afternoon was that it allowed him to realise what kind of tactics he would try to use to incapacitate him. Which is to say, not much.

_crack_

Speed is his major weakness but that can be more than accounted for with his kagune that consists of 4 tendrils. He is of the belief that if you pierce their flesh multiple times, especially in areas like the bones sockets on the shoulders and the knees to reduce mobility of the prey as well as their soft unprotected abdomen, then pretty soon all that remains is just a bloody pathetic mess at your feet.

Isn't it funny? All the strange things he's thinking?

It's actually funny.

He giggles.

He's not overtly concerned, at least, not really. With the edges of the world gently shimmering like a butterfly's wing, the lines slowly blurring and melding together, the scene feels more like a distant dream than anything else. A mirage, an illusion, a little place where things are sweetly false.

The room is black, then lit, then black again and finally, a sickly glow emits sullenly from the one remaining bulb. Throughout the whole ordeal, everything feels like a dream. Things take on a more…hazy edge. As if nothing is real. So his kagune twists and turns and he strides around and the world flexes, a gentle distortion between reality and fiction.

As he steps over the pile of flesh, he's just about to put his leg down when a hand in tattered rags closes down with a vice-like grip.

"Nishitty, let me go," he says patiently.

The hold tightens.

"Don't...kill her. She's all I...have...left..." It's the dying gasp of someone about to be welcomed into the arms of death. There is the raspy sound of air being forcefully sucked in only to languidly flow out, barely inflating collapsing lungs at all.

_crack_

"I can't have her running off to tell everyone about me, you know," Kaneki says reasonably, eyes bright and friendly in his mismatched gaze. "Sorry, but not sorry."

A kagune reaches down and snaps the hand off with a sickening crack. Even the crack sounds distant, as if heard through wads of cotton wool stuffed in his ears. He doesn't have to stop, this isn't real.

There's a muffled scream from somewhere below him but it's not really his concern now.

Black. White. Black. White. The light flickers, flickers, flickers and nothing seems concrete, everything is fluid, ever-changing, a dream within a dream.

With an effort, Nishiki slowly lifts his head, "...Kill...you."

_Crack._

Overhead, the light seems to resemble a guttering candle in a violent storm rather than the bright young thing it once was. His back itches, probably his kagune twitching against his skin but another scream accompanies the movement.

Black. White.  _Red._

Nishiki may have just been imagining it or his vision is going wonky but he thinks he can see a few white strands mingling with the raven hair of the half-ghoul standing above him.

The light flickers even more erratically, the transition from colour to colour happening faster and faster.

Black, white, red, black, white, red.

"Please die like the horse crap you are," Kaneki says pleasantly and places his foot on his face, words tasting like a fizzy drink on warm summer days. The half-ghoul's vision warps again, colours leaking into one another to form a whirlpool of them and he can't help but think that it's a pretty dream.

* * *

Nishiki knows that he's going to die, crushed like an ant and unknowing of why he is going to. He can't wrap his mind around what's going on. Whatever is wrong with Kaneki seems to get worse when he materialised his kagune. The way he spoke and held himself was the polar opposite of the bookworm he knows.

(Soon these would be matters for the living to handle.)

Blackwhiteredblackwhiteredblackwhitered.

Flicker, flicker, flicker.

The foot on his face gradually increases in pressure and the bones on his left side ground together with the sound of gravelling pebbles. There is a loud  _crack_ and he feels wetness on his face, a new bolt of pain slashing through his body.

He closes his eyes and calls up a memory of Kimi. He can remember the faint curl on her lips, the brightness in her eyes, the way she'll lay her hand on his head when the nightmares come and drag screams out of his throat, she'll whisper  _it'll be fine, shhh, I'm here, you're not alone alright? I'm here, Nishiki, I'm here. You're safe, I promise you._ And in the haze of delirium, he had believed that - he still does. Like she said, it'll be fine.

Blackwhiteredblackwhiteredblackwhiteredblackwhitered.

He smiles.

Black.

He's dying but somehow, if it's for her, then it'll probably be fine.

White.

The bulb finally gives out, plunging the house into absolute darkness.

_**Squish.** _

* * *

The only illumination comes from the moon and it is a paltry thing, barely making a dent in the all-consuming darkness that floods the house. Maybe it's a good thing that you can't see it clearly because if anyone is stubborn enough and strains their eyes hard enough and hold their breath for long enough, they can almost catch something imperceptibly faint in the corner of their eyes:

**Red.**

* * *

"Kimi! Wait up!"

She whips around to see Kaneki panting as he stumbles out of the alleyway she had just ran passed. The surrounding gloom made it hard to see him properly and she has to strain her eyes.

"Kaneki-kun? Where's Nishiki?" She calls out sharply. She's still not sure what's going on but this Kaneki that's limping towards her seems okay. The light in his eyes is gentle, slightly confused and warm. He's not cracking his fingers so maybe whatever bout of madness that has passed is in remission now.

"That's the thing, Kimi. He ran out of the house and I…I tried to stop him." He manages before collapsing forward. She rushes to support him and as she puts her arms around him, she realises her hands come up wet. Blood?

Coughing weakly, he explains, "Got injured by him. Have you seen him?"

She shakes her head. "Stop talking, you need to rest."

She sits him down and props him up against the wall. The dim lighting of the surroundings makes it hard to gauge what kind of injuries he has sustained but she catches sight of a large patch of dark liquid on his legs and feet, which probably means that his legs are the most affected. For him to catch her here means that he must have limped all the way here in agony this whole while.

"Kaneki-kun, I really don't understand why or even know what's going on between the ghouls and you. I'm just a human but…you know that you can trust me, right?"

Smiling faintly, he says, "Yea, I know."

She returns the smile and then looks over at his foot. "May I?"

"Sure. Be gentle, please?"

Under his watchful gaze, she carefully pokes and prods his leg as well as the other injuries on his body, noting the bloodstains and tattered clothes with professional calm for she is medical student in Kamii University and the things she has learnt pour into her mind as she catalogues the extent of damage. When she is done, she presses her lips and says nothing.

"How bad is it?" Kaneki asks weakly.

"It's…it's not bad," she looks away and grips the fabric of her skirt tightly. In a small voice, she says, "I just wish I knew how I could help you."

He opens his mouth – but she continues on, "I also wish you could have told us earlier, we could have done something to stop it somehow."

Letting out a sigh, she lifts her head to look at him, and that's when he sees them: tears. Tears sliding soundlessly down her cheeks like pearls.

"Kaneki, please live on, alright?"

In a voice devoid of any emotion, he asks, "You knew and yet here you are, still sitting and talking to me. Aren't you scared?"

She shakes her head.

When she had checked him for his injuries, she had found only small cuts and minor bruising. There were a few lacerations but they seem to be healing up pretty quickly. These minor things did not add up to the sheer amount of blood soaking his clothes. His legs were bloodied but she knew that the blood didn't come from him. She recognised the bits of pink flesh that clung between his toes. They were brain matter. And Nishiki isn't here…

_Oh, Kaneki…_

"I'm sorry we couldn't help you," she says, her voice not wavering even the slightest, the sincerity in there so true it almost physically hurts.

Kaneki studies her silently, head tilted to one side as if he is observing a particular curious specimen. Darkness shifts and digs its claws deeper within him. With a snap, his kagune flares out from his back and whips lightning-fast towards her. It yanks to a stop before her throat, the distance so close that she need only swallow and the oily band of muscle would brush against her skin.

To her credit, Kimi didn't even flinch. Her eyes were on him the whole time.

"Are you scared now?" He asks, and his voice is mild, the same tone as someone enquiring if it's going to rain today.

Kimi has lived her life quietly, always at the sides of society, kind and gentle to the people she knew and yet, still overlooked by others. When her family died and left her all alone, she was in a dark place for a long time. Like a flower starved for sunlight, she had withered, preferring to stay home under her blankets and staring sightlessly at the walls. But then she had met him, Nishiki, the bright young man and for a long time, she had been in the shadows but now she felt the Sun on her face and having experienced his warmth, she could smile and breathe again.

With him, she had bloomed, the flower that no one picked.

Her hand reaches out and both of them could see that it did not tremble. "Please live on, Kaneki. I hope you find your happiness and fight whatever is affecting you."

She knows what happened to Nishiki, she knows but instead of sinking into despair, all she feels is this light warm ball in her chest that's pulsing out a message: _this isn't Kaneki's fault. In fact, this isn't really Kaneki at all._ A gut feeling or an instinct, whatever it is, she explicitly trusts it and that's why she's not running away. Her hands touch the sides of his face.

At her gentle touch, he stills.

It is now him who does not understand.

She's not scared, she's not screaming, she's not running. Of all the things he expects to see, this isn't one of them. All he sees in her eyes is just…pity.

He flinches then, a sudden knee-jerk reaction to this unknown and stands up abruptly, suddenly feeling like a small kid lost in big big world. Kimi's hands fall to her side as she looks up at him. The darkness shies away for a moment, before determinedly settling over his mind, coating the world with a dreamlike quality.

This is it then.

"Did Nishiki say anything before he…?" Her gaze feels too piercing, as if she could see past the black rottenness in him and found something worth saving. But he has looked, and there is nothing there.

Only darkness.

He doesn't meet her eyes, "He said your name."

In the face of impending doom, she smiles.

And he still doesn't get it.

Nishitty had to die because he knew something was off with him and well, he had to tie up loose ends. But this person…Kimi, is an abnormality. No trace of fear in her, only a strange gentle pity in her eyes. He could let her go. He really could. But he thinks that it would be a kinder mercy for her to be with Nishitty than here (but really, he just doesn't know what to make of her so the easiest thing to do was to simply make her disappear.)

She smiles as his kagune wraps around her throat. She smiles, as her feet lifts off the ground. Still she smiles, as the red band around her throat begins to tighten. She doesn't struggle, she doesn't make any noise.  _Don't blame yourself,_ she mouths.

She just smiles.

Even in death, she smiles.

This is not the death of a girl who cares too much and loves too much; it is the death of a scentless flower.

He's about to throw her corpse to the side, but something within him stops him from doing so. An instinct, perhaps? From where, he's not sure.

Instead, he gently lays it down on the floor, inherently puzzled and disturbed at how she didn't put up a fight. He frowns, wrinkles forming on his forehead and he just keeps looking at the body, incomprehension written on his face.

He doesn't understand.

For a long time, he simply stares.

There was nothing for a while and then…

It…looks...somehow…familiar. Can almost recognise it, there's a name hovering on his tongue but nothing's coming out. The not-quite familiarity nudges his mind again. It's…it's….

His left pocket vibrates.

He flinches, dragged back from his murky thoughts. He pulls out his phone and reads the text from Touka:  _Meet me at abandoned house near the old bridge and bring mask. Rogue ghoul attack._

Touka…He shakes his head like a dog, and that's when the darkness relinquishes it hold; the world tilts, goes fuzzy at the sides and like a sudden shockwave, the world suddenly crashes into breath-taking focus, the edges sharply defined and every whoosh of his breath and thumping of his heart sounding unbearably loud in his ears.

There seems to be something that he must remember, an anomaly whom should have run when she could. He casts his eyes around and sees a dead body in the ground, flinches at the twisted angle of her neck. His head is just so loud, thoughts crashing into one another and what's with the black, white, red that cuts into his vision and did he step on horse crap and a scream that never appeared and who is that girl with the gentle touch and his kagune is, right now he's… he just –

\- Just needs to get away.

He surges up into the sky and lands on the roof in one smooth motion, gazing down at the city below him. Shakes his head rapidly and makes his way over to Touka (Touka, Touka, Touka, he tastes the name of his tongue, can't help but wonder if there is another girl's name he must remember, a girl and her partner, but nothing comes to mind. Nothing, nothing, nothing.) He flits from rooftop to rooftop, trying to blank out his mind from a confusing whirl of…dreams?

So caught up in trying to sort out his head, a song slips past his lips unknowingly:

_Incy wincy centipede crawling in me,_

_Up goes my blood and down goes my brain,_

_Out came the centipede and ate up all my pain,_

_And incy wincy centipede crawling up again!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe some of the more observant readers have noticed the 4 references - 1 from a book series, 1 from a poem and 2 from an anime/manga - inside this chapter and yep, they're all deliberate. I decided to incorporate the references as a way of paying homage to them. :)
> 
> I would love to hear what you guys think about this chapter. All feedback is much appreciated!


	3. The Abyss Beckons With a Bloody Grin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are always forgetting. We just don't expect it to hurt so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the four references from the previous chapter, they are Series of Unfortunate Events, Soul Eater, Full Metal Alchemist and Edgar Allan Poe. In case anyone was wondering :)
> 
> Special thanks to my beta Charlie-the-spider for your fast and efficient beta-ing. And also to June Ellie for being my First Reader. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

 

In his sleep, there is blood.

Blood on the walls.

There is always blood on the walls.

And a voice.

And a kagune.

A kagune dripping with blood.

Sometimes he thinks—

(no)

—he thinks—

(don't…kill her and -)

Easy, a voice says. So easy. It's just like cutting through meat.

And another voice gasps:

(...Kill...you)

It's okay. It's okay. He's weak. Ignore him. I want—

And sometimes he thinks –

(no)

he thinks –

(no please don't do this no no no don't don't)

Blood.

* * *

The first thing he sees when he wakes is the clean dull green of his apartment wall. From afar, it seems as if moss is growing on it but no, that's just the natural state of his room. Green. It's supposed to be a calming colour.

But he's looking at the swirl of green on his walls and it's not working. His heart is hammering in his chest and his palms are damp with sweat. His limbs are constricted by the bed sheets wrapped tight around his body and his breathing is uncontrolled. They pass hard and fast through his mouth, feels like he can't get any air in. There's something ripping and screaming behind his ribcage - is it fear? Is it sorrow? Is it hatred and disgust? But that can't be right, why would he feel any of that?

_Why?_

He gets up from his bed, notes the shakiness in his hands when he yanks the covers off and he's a little sick and dizzy with how shallowly he is breathing. His lungs just won't inflate properly.

There's something niggling in the back of his mind, a tendril of darkness latching onto a distant dream, hazy shapes and blurry outlines. Nothing concrete comes to mind. The more he tries to recall, the more a sharp ache persists behind his eyes.

Kaneki decides that if his head isn't cooperating then he might as well make a cup of coffee. Maybe that would soothe his non-existent nerves, or jerk his mind open into a total recall. He has no idea why his body is acting strange even though he just woke up.

Preparing the coffee calms him down somewhat, the tremors in his hands decreasing to just an occasional shudder. His actions are efficient and mechanical due to all the times Kaneki had done it at Anteiku. They're so simple that he doesn't have to think about what he is doing, safe in the monotony of his actions, unthinking and unhurt by the chaos in his head. It's good. It's really good. He doesn't want to think about the other things that buzz like angry locusts in his head, an indistinct swamp.

Taking in a deep breath of his freshly prepared cup, he lets out a satisfied sigh. Ah, Arabica coffee. It has a pleasantly robust aroma that is heady and strong, the silky scent of coffee loosening the tension in his shoulders. Fingers wrapped tight around the mug, he can slowly feel the warmth driving away the chill from his fingers.

Kaneki takes a slow drink, closes his eyes in pure bliss as the restorative properties of coffee takes hold, a steady pulse of warmth nestling in his chest and spreading towards his limbs.

Both he and Touka are fervent supporters of Arabica coffee and working at a cafe that sells coffee, it inevitably leads to some clashes with the other ghouls at Anteiku. Enji swears by Americano  _("Best damn thing you ever drank!")_  while Kaya prefers a simple latte  _("A dash of vanilla to a simple latte tastes rather lovely.")_ A strong black coffee is what Yoshimura likes, judging from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he takes a sip from it. Meanwhile, Nishiki only drinks from Blondy which had prompted Touka to comment on it once, "Guess your taste buds are as shitty as you are, huh?"

Unsurprisingly, Nishiki had turned it into an argument, "Shut up, you shitty woman. Like hell your taste is any better. Especially in men."

The glare that Touka gave him was enough to send a lesser man run screaming for his mother. As it was, not only could Nishiki be slightly thick, he just didn't know when to quit.

"What's that supposed to mean, damn Nishiki?" Touka spits.

"Please, everyone can tell that you have a soft spot for –" Further words became difficult when a table slammed straight into Nishiki's face with the force of a tsunami crashing into a shore, effectively cutting off Nishiki's words and preventing Kaneki - who was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and rapidly wishing he could just disappear - from hearing just who it was that had captured Touka's attention. Which was a pity considering he hadn't even known Touka liked anyone. Whoever it was, Kaneki just wanted to wish that person good luck.

Then, Touka had noticed his presence in the room and two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks and she had snapped at him, "What are you looking at?"

To which, he had just stammered a reply and prepared to run in case she decided she wanted to throw a table at him too.

A groan from the floor distracted Touka. Nishiki got up painfully and shot her a dirty look before limping away, but not before he brushed past him and muttered, "Good luck."

Till now, Kaneki is still unsure what Nishiki meant by that but he chalks it up to the ghoul getting hit by a table that has caused him to mumble some nonsense to himself.

Kaneki's lips twitch in memory of that particular scene and he realises that he would be meeting the brown-haired ghoul at work today. With Touka.

Working whenever their two shifts clash together is always an interesting experience. It just makes him inherently grateful that he's still alive at the end of the day. Touka might glare at him more than usual and Nishiki -

_Nishitty, let me go._

The tendril of darkness in his mind flexes, grabs hold of something solid and yanks out the blood soaked memory. There's a moment of weakness where he can't feel his limbs before he realises what he's seeing and –

_Sorry, but not sorry._

Memories come trickling back to him, slow at first, just snippets of words spoken in an alien tongue and flashes of light that suddenly mean everything and nothing all at the same time.

_Black. White. Red._

There's just so much red. On his hands and legs and dripping down everywhere.

The blurry memories shiver, and then slowly solidify, clarity growing as well as horror.

Distantly, he feels something wet trickling down his hands and he realises he has crushed the mug in his hands.

And then he remembers Nishiki's face as he pleads with him and his lips had twisted and alien words slipped through his mouth–

_Please die like the horse crap you are._

No please don't do this no no no don't  _don't._  Stop thinking about this! This isn't real and please no, anything but that, anything but –

_**Squish.** _

His face is wet and he's on his knees. There's a high pitched keening noise and it takes him awhile to realise that it's coming from him. He digs his fingers in his scalp, and there's a sharp tearing pain when some of his hair is ripped out. He bites down on his fist, hard enough to draw blood but the pain isn't enough, never can be, not when he had committed a heinous crime, not when his hand was stained so so red with his friend's blood and oh god, what has he  _done?_

He bites down unconsciously on his nails,  _crunch crunch crunch_ , the pain barely affecting him as he's thrown deeper into his mental hell. It takes only a few moments for his nails to regrow back, and when they do, they're a slightly dull pink. He swallows the bits of nails and flesh, barely tasting anything except for a brush of copper against his tongue.

And beyond the horror and guilt, beyond that lays another corpse who was once a girl who forgave too easily, reached out to someone who didn't deserve it and told him,  _Don't blame yourself._

Following that was just a soft breath; the barest hint of life and the there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, tremors travelling through his frame, eyes wide and unfocused, quick shallow breaths that does nothing to help the vortex of emotions whirling through his head. His arms are wrapped around him as if it's the only thing holding him together.

It's all his fault. And then it's not. Because it's just the -

_\- Incy wincy centipede crawling in me -_

\- Strange thoughts sliding around his head. Those agonising memories imprint themselves into his mind's eye, painfully sharp in clarity and he has to resist the urge to fling himself out of the window, let his soft body slam against unyielding concrete, shatter all his bones and let all the shards pierce every flesh and organ and maybe, just maybe, that would be penance enough. Or maybe not, it won't ever feel like it's enough because what he has destroyed isn't just two people whom he cherishes, but the very foundation of what he believes in:

A world that both humans and ghouls could live together happily.

Kimi and Nishiki were the ones who showed that it was possible. A peaceful world of mutual coexistence. And now…now he had taken the dream into his hands and crushed it into fine powder.

What can he say to that?

It's time he admits it to himself that the deterioration in his memories is not a small thing. It's not going to vanish without any trace one day and neither is it getting better. In fact, it has gotten worse. Yesterday he…he…he lost control of himself and (enjoyed the freedom) did something absolutely unforgivable.

His eyes flick to the side of his kitchen, landing on the knife rack almost not-quite deliberately.

Under the light, the blades glint oh-so-temptingly and in a trance, Kaneki gets up, stumbles over and grab the counter to support himself. Wraps his finger around the hilt. Draws it out slowly. Till the full metal blade is exposed.

He brings the knife to the soft pale hollow of his neck. Feels the cool metal against his fevered flesh. Places one small point of pressure, a cold spot on the vulnerable flesh of his throat.

It's almost too easy.

To.

Push.

It.

In.

He holds it there for awhile and having that control over his life, over something that he can choose and decide, makes it seem...pleasant.

Kaneki's eyes flick to the side, catching sight of his face in a small mirror hanging on the wall and he freezes.

His left eye is shrouded in liquid black, with crimson veins threading through the inky darkness. It's not his eye. It's a ghoul's eye. It's not him, it's –

And then a brainwave hits him.

Kaneki decides right there and then that what had happened so far has nothing to do with him being weak; rather it's because of his ghoul side. Slowly taking over his body and memories, a parasitic infestation of his mind and body that subjects him to relive the memory of killing his friends whenever he wakes from the clutches of it. It was never him. It was the ghoul all along.

Angling the knife away from his throat, he tilts it higher. Brings it to his left eye, the ghoul eye, the cursed eye,  _I._

The blade of the knife is so thin that all he can see is just a thin trembling line against his vision. His hand is shaking and he musters all his willpower to steadies it, he can't miss this.

It is said that to deliberately harm yourself, what you need is foolishness and a complete disregard for pain. But that's not true.

Desperation is all it takes, it's all he feels.

A chance is presenting itself to him, he has to take it. He can't let this continue on any longer.

Just one fast stab. That's it. He can do this. He can just push it  _in._

He readies himself, takes a deep breath and he -

" _Kaneki!"_

The door slams open with a bang and the sharp voice startles him so much that he drops the knife on the floor in surprise.

It clatters away from him and slides towards a pair of legs that come striding in.

"Kaneki, just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Relief as strong as a tidal wave sweeps through him at the interruption, and he looks up, manages a shaky smile, "Hello Touka."

He must look like a pathetic mess kneeling on the floor, spilled coffee staining the area, hair an absolute mess and eyes a little haunted, a little dim and murky and so far away, because Touka doesn't shout at him, doesn't insult him or beat him up for acting like a fool.

She just stands there wordlessly with an expression on her face he can't decipher. Unreadable. Unfathomable. Blank in obscurity. And that scares him.

"I er…dropped the mug," he tries, hoping to get a reaction from her. She's too still, barely breathing. Looking at him with wide eyes and behind that, an opaqueness that he can't pierce through.

"And it spilled. On the floor. Got cut on some shards and…" he trails off because he can't think of a good excuse why he was pointing a knife at his ghoul eye with the intent of gouging it out or at the very least, damaging it.

"I was about to cut some fruits and I was just checking whether it was sharp." Mentally wincing at how sad the excuse was, he waits for Touka to call him out on it. Maybe she'll start off with a "Bullshit Kaneki, tell me the fucking truth!" before knocking him unconscious or maybe she'll break his fingers one by one until he finally satisfies her with the diluted version of the truth. Of course he's not telling her what he had done exactly.

Hey, I killed Nishiki and Kimi and then I went to dance in the blood rain with you yesterday night when we killed the rogue ghoul. Uh sorry about that, think you can forgive me? And maybe think of something to stop me from getting worse or hell, you could just kill me before I end up forgetting you too?

It's still too raw, the pain still sharp and digging, and a part of him desperately wants Touka to look at him and still say 'friend' instead of 'monster'. So he keeps his mouth shut. Waits for the inevitable.

One moment he is bracing himself for the worst, the next moment there is the faint whiff of tiger lilies in the air and his arms are filled with  _her._

His first thought is  _Touka is hugging me_  but then he realises her hands are clutching the front of his shirt and her head is bowed so only the top of her head is pressed against his chest.

It's not a hug; it's the desperate grip of a drowning man on a float in the midst of the treacherous seas. As if she is telling herself that he is still here, solid and warm and  _real._

* * *

Touka couldn't sleep yesterday night. Not a wink.

Yesterday night, she had paced around her room.

Kept catching herself looking out of the window for a familiar face.

Made coffee and then poured it down the sink because she couldn't keep it down.

Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was the same manic grin on his face as his kagune spins and whirls and blood rains down the skies. The two words:  _memory cannibalization_ , kept blazing in her mind and she had to stop it from warping into  _lost cause._

Because it's not.

It's still Kaneki and maybe he can't remember certain things in his human life but that doesn't mean that he's completely gone. It was a double whammy when she heard about Nishiki's and Kimi's deaths this morning.

She'd wanted to rage, wanted to tear down the Doves headquarters and burn them alive because who else could have killed them in such a horrendous manner? But she had to find Kaneki first, prayed that he was still here in the morning and hoped that maybe yesterday, and all the other days before that, were just a really bad nightmare that she had walked right into. But, they can go on a rampage at the Doves headquarters together, where they will put aside their differences and work together for a larger cause, even though on the day of the execution, he will always look a little lost, but that's okay because she's always making sure that that damn shithead is fine anyway. It's all part of his – typical – idiocy.

It'll be like old times again and everything bad and weird that had happened will fade away into the sidelines of her memories. Touka knew that she was just lying to herself, but she clung to it because there was nothing else left.

Out of all the things that she had pictured the state she would find him in this morning, she wasn't stupid enough to think that he would be right as rain, smiling gently and greeting her with his usual serenity. So of course, it shouldn't have been a surprise when she saw him about to have a breakdown.

Yet, catching sight of his white-lined knuckles and the knife poised above his left eye, desperation lining his features and the leftover tear tracks on his face, had sent a sharp spike of panic lancing through her heart.

She was almost too late. Almost, not quite, barely, but enough,  _thank god_  it was enough. She doesn't want to contemplate what would happen if she was a second too late. It was just like him to flail and falter but the sight of him fumbling around for an excuse was a relief to her system because it was a familiar thing. She knew this.

So she's a little jittery and off-balanced, nerves shot to hell and back from the revelation of Kaneki's condition, her incessant worrying about him that lasted the whole night and now, this strangely comforting scene of Kaneki acting well…Kaneki.

She didn't think. She came in, saw Kaneki with the knife and gave in to what her brain was screaming at her from the very beginning when she caught sight of the fear in his eyes as he was about to bring the blade down.

She threw herself forward.

* * *

Touka digs her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, grips tight, and she can't lift her head. Doesn't think she can deal with the relief blooming in his eyes when she managed to stop him. She just breathes in, grateful for the warmth of his body and how he doesn't push her away. If she can, she will preserve this memory in amber to withstand the test of time, so that she can relive it every time he slips away from her, only to come back changed and cracked at the edges.

It's only when he places his hand on her head, runs gentle fingers through her hair does she freezes up. Her palms snap open and she forcefully shoves him away, gets up and stalks over to the opposite corner of the room because this is the comfort that he can give but she cannot accept.

His fingers are still splayed open, the movement aborted. She can't help bristling at him because there's no point lying about it; he was trying to comfort her and it annoyed her that he thought that she needed comforting. Like she was a child crying from a nightmare. Regardless, what irks her the most is that, just that one touch, that one gentle press of his hand on her head was actually reassuring god damnit.

But what use was being comforted if it didn't solve a damn thing?

The familiar pricks of anger and irritation stir within her, settling into their usual pattern whenever she deals with him.

Just like that, they're back where they started.

"What was that for?" she asks, can't summon the energy to snap at him like she wants to. It comes out empty and forlorn instead.

"Nothing." His fingers curl around thin air and he brings his hand down to his side, looks away from her. "Just nothing."

"You were out of it with the rogue ghoul yesterday and you admitted to it that you're losing your memories. It's true, right." Statement, not a question.

"You don't have to worry; I'm getting it under controlled." With that, he gives her a tight smile.

The fuck it's under controlled. She's trying to be supportive and encouraging and all he's trying to do is to push her away. Kaneki is keeping something from her, bottling it up inside of him. Only to let that thin veneer of control crack and destroy him first before he dares bleed out on others.

God damnit, Kaneki.

"What else is there? You've become different. More violent and vicious," she notices his flinch when she says that, can't help but be viciously glad that his reaction gave him away. "And you think you're being noble and all that, but really you're just being a pain in the ass."

It startles a laugh out of him, the brusque manner she says it with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"It's fine, I think we're all a little tensed now. After all," he looks away, "Kimi and Nishiki are dead." Kaneki is trying to play it cool, testing the waters, wonders how much he can reveal to her before her hand of friendship is the one that stabs him in the back once she's figured out what he has done.

"…Yeah, I'm going to kill the Doves who were responsible for that."

There's a level of certainty and vengeance in her gaze that he knows that this is what she truly believes. He could tell her the truth now, open his mouth and say those earth-breaking words but it scares him to admit it that he's too far gone, that whatever Touka might try to save him would end up being pointless.

He's in it too deep.

"Don't change the subject, now tell me what are the," she makes a motion with her hands, "symptoms of your condition."

His only reply is just, "I forget some things and then I remember them afterwards. That's it."

It's a deliberate, vague and softened answer, meant to hide the true face of his memory cannibalization. There's more to it than that but the set line of his lips is a non-verbal sign to her that it's all he's going to say. Nothing more. It would be pointless to pursue it further.

Once, she had verbally assaulted him and beat him a good number of times when he had clamped shut over a particular incident involving her rabbit jacket getting stained (1), but his lips were pursed in a straight line and nothing she did had managed to pry what she wanted from him – not that she suspected him of spoiling her rabbit jacket or anything. It was just that at that point in time, he seemed like the easiest of all targets to vent her rage on, and the guilt still twinges in her chest whenever she thinks about it.

Here, guilt isn't what she's feeling. It's frustration that he's being so reluctant to tell her what he's going through. She can't help the hurt that creeps into her voice, "Are you sure that's it? Nothing else?"

She's giving him one last chance and they both know it.

The look he gives her is soft and determined. "Nothing," he says, and it feels like the blade of an executioner swinging down, cutting the conversation short.

This is what she wants to tell him, what she has always been wanting to tell him all along, keeping it bottled inside of her every time he looks a little drained and exhausted at whatever things that were haunting him, but the words get stuck in her throat instead. She can only shout it to the confines of her mind, echoing and bouncing along her skull but never able to break through:  _Why won't you let me help you? I can't lose you, Kaneki. Not like how I lost my father and brother because never again will I let that happen. Can't you see you mean something to me? Can't you be a little more selfish and protect yourself? Stop caring so much about others and just dump your problems on them because we care about you too, god damnit. Look at me and tell me that your life is worthless and that you don't deserve any of us. I know that you can't do it and I know you don't believe this shit so stop acting like it already!_

But that's a bit too much, reveals things about herself to him that she never wants him to know so this is what she actually says, has to swallow a few times before she can speak, "You could try writing down what you remember, all your precious human memories. Whatever you want to never forget and keep close to your heart, write it all down and whenever you feel like you're fading, take it out and read it. Read it until you remember and know every word in there, read it until it's seared into your skin, engraved in your heart and carved into your head until you feel it in your bones and  _nothing_  you do will  _ever_  take it away."

She can't help the tremble in her voice as she breaks on some of the words, trips over them with all the pent up emotion welling in her chest.

Turning around, she leaves his house before he can say anything. Doesn't know what to make of the way his eyes were a muted brown throughout her speech, hands hanging loose at his sides and the sad, sad expression on his face, as if he doesn't believe that what he does now can be any help at all.

He was looking at her like he doesn't think he deserved to be saved.

She saw it and had to leave quickly, before the ragged thing in her chest escaped.

* * *

As a general rule, Touka hates libraries.

Thick dusty tomes crammed with ancient knowledge, the still and stuffy air making it harder to breathe the more she walked inside the depths of the slumbering beast. There are people there too, quiet and sly, watching her with glinting judgemental eyes and she feels like she doesn't belong, stuck in a place where there are things she doesn't understand as the smug books peer down at her from their perch. All their knowledge and expertise combine to form a gibberish of text that she has neither the time nor patience to go through. Whenever she encounters problems, she's more of the beat-the-crap-out-of-it-until-it-stops-moving kind of person. It suited her well in the past and she's not about to deviate from the norm.

Unless, of course, if she is feeling particularly shaken up by a particular half-ghoul, burning with the need to help him but doesn't know how to do so, does she step into the library with determination in her gaze as she braves through the stern faces of the librarians and the seemingly endless rows of books.

During the walk to the library, she has somewhat calmed down. With time to organise her head and her emotions, she's feeling okay. Not good, but better. Because she has a goal now. Something that she can work towards and invest her time and effort in, because anything is better that simply allowing Kaneki to suffer it all alone.

Her house isn't what she needs now. She may need to rest but not now. She can rest when she's dead. Her house is too quiet, has too much space, too many  _memories_.

(A knock on the door, and a hesitant voice calls out, "Touka-chan, can I come in?"

She gets up from where she was hunched over her notes, stretches out her cramped fingers and opens the door.

"Yeah?"

"Ah, I heard that you were taking Classical Literature and Enji mentioned that you needed some help?" Kaneki phrase it more like a question than anything and when she doesn't answer immediately, he continued hurriedly, "I'm not saying you're bad at it or anything, I just thought if you need someone to go through with you some key points, I could always offer you my help?" It doesn't fail to escape her that he ended off with a question – again. Probably afraid that she'll see his proposal as an indirect way of hinting that she's doing badly in her studies rather than a genuine offer of help. Of course, she knows he wants to help. It's almost amusing how nervous he looks.

Touka glances back at her messy table, the crumpled pieces of paper at the corner of her desk, the jagged lines of pen ink when she was so frustrated with her inability to understand anything that she had scrawled angrily on any available surfaces. In the rubbish bin, there are a few pens that had been snapped in half out of a mixture of misdirected anger and frustration.

Then, she returns her gaze to Kaneki, the clear earnest look in his eyes freight with mild caution and she sighs, opens the door wider.

"Come in," she says, the resignation evident in her voice and Kaneki hides a smile.

All things considered, the day went rather well. Not that she'll ever tell him that she's grateful to him or anything.

Still, at the end of the study session, she asks him if he is free next week to revise through some of her other notes and he agrees immediately.)

Too many reminders of the past soaking into her furniture, coating every inch of her house that she knows she has to stay away for now. Focus on the present. Think and act. Don't feel anything. Not now.

The library is supposed to be a repository of knowledge and well, there should be something about memory cannibalization in here. So she painstakingly combs through the entire library, trawls through hundreds of shelves and comes up with a grand total of one miserable book.

The Sun has set by then, a whole day dedicated to locate more information on his condition and not only is she exhausted and dead on her feet, to make matters worse the whole thing was found in a theory book, which means that all this was just hypothetical. No actual observations, just possibilities based on theories of nature.

In her frazzled and exhausted state, the words seem to swim before her eyes, twist around each other and interweave among themselves before grudgingly settling back to their original shapes after she blinks a few times.

It says:

_Due to the apparent fragile nature of the brain, a drastic shift in personality brought about by traumatic events or foreign insertion of biological particles can alter the neural network of the brain. It is assumed that when permanent foreign biological structures integrate with the brain, it causes a chemical imbalance within the environment itself. As a result, memories - the foundation in which individual personality is shaped by - becomes corroded by the new chemical environment. Memories which are stored in the brain for a long period of time are likely to be the first to be degraded while recent memories might show a slower rate of degradation. As for memories which relates to the insertion of the foreign molecules, it should possess a particular immunity to this although the mental stability of the organism might be highly unstable. It is presumed that this process is entirely unstoppable._

Foreign biological particles? Could be the ghoul organs that were transplanted into him. The rest basically just meant that his ghoul memories are fine; it's only his human memories that are getting degraded. In a way, memory cannibalization. The ghoul side winning over the human side.

Kaneki's mental stability is a worry to her, and she gnaws on the inside of her cheek. Today, she had just caught him about to gouge out his ghoul eye. Tomorrow, what can she expect?

She doesn't want to think about it.

At that moment, she had held on to a small spark of hope that maybe, just maybe she could save him. Find a solution in these books and eradicate the disease in his mind. Her heart had leapt in her chest in bright foolish happiness when her tired eyes caught sight of the paragraph, only to crumble when faced with the last two words:  _entirely unstoppable._

She stays there and stares at it for a long time, hope having been burnt alive and all that's left is its charred skeleton in her mouth, tasting of bitter ashes.

* * *

It's another day and both of them wake up in their own beds, tired and hollowed out and connected in their exhaustion. One that sinks all the way down to their bones and no matter how many times they splash their face with ice-cold water or down another cup of coffee, it's still there. Perhaps it isn't exhaustion then. More accurately, it could be because once someone has had their hopes dashed against the rocks; it would take some time to recover.

But Touka and Kaneki are resilient people. They have to be.

While Touka gathers her usual façade of mild annoyance and her 'tough as nails' attitude, Kaneki stands in front of the mirror and practices smiling. These few days, it feels like his face is slowly hardening into cement, and even when he smiles, it feels strange on his face. Too wide and large, seeming to be a clown's garish grin than anything else. Certainly not his.

These days his body feels weird. Off-balanced. Limbs spasming for a moment. Quick sharp shudders that wreck his body and leave him cold and sweating. And his head. Always aching. Pounding and throbbing like a hammer smashing up his brains.

He decides to take a shower instead, hoping it will clear the fog in his mind, ease up on the tension pooling behind his eyes. When the shower spray hits his face, he is reminded, sharply and painfully and abruptly, of the hot spray of arterial blood on his face.

And the words:  _Please die like the horse crap you are._

And his kagune whipping the air in frenzied motions.

And the blood.

There is always so much blood.

Always.

He must be reeking of blood and gore, his soul painted black and red with what he has done. It hangs over him like a dark miasma, can almost feel the stranglehold it has on his ribs with how difficult it is to breathe suddenly. It's not fair that he has a monster that looks out from his eyes, it's not fair that he can feel the blood dripping lukewarm down his bare hands. It's not fair that no matter how much he is scrubbing and scrubbing till it stings, and then it hurts so bad with how his skin is turning red and raw, that he can feel the coating of filth on his flesh. It's not fair that he washes his hair so many times that he pulls out some of it, stands under the hot water pounding down on his body and he  _still_  feels unclean in more ways than one.

It's not fair.

He violently twists the knob to cut off the water and slides down the walls. Till his whole body is lying curled up on the floor, and the cold presses into his skin, icy-blue tendrils that drive deep into his core. He's shivering and he finds something inexplicably funny in how the steam from the water rises to fog up the mirror while he's down here feeling like his whole body has become an ice cube. He's laughing and entirely unable to stop, curled up around himself and laughing so hard his body shakes with the force of it; laughing so hard and so long that tears spring to his eyes and wretched laughter echoes in the bathroom for a long, long time.

* * *

Touka fidgets in front of Kaneki's door, in a dark blue pullover and navy jeans. It's been getting chilly lately, as the winds blow in from the seas and plunges the temperature. She's visiting him again, wanting to check up on him under the disguise of inquiring whether he'll be working at Anteiku this coming week. Touka refuses to see it as one of the last times she's going to see the old Kaneki even though  _entirely unstoppable_ blares through her mind again and again.

 _Shut it_ , she thinks viciously, and stamps it down. Whether it'll remain down for good is unlikely how it simmers at the back of her mind, lying low but not forgotten.

When she finds herself hesitating to knock on his door, she thinks that things must be really bad. What is she afraid of anyway? That he'll open the door and the person who comes out will not be the person she knows? Or worse, that the door will not even open and a suspicious eye will peer out and he will ask her who is she?

 _But that's bullshit!_  she wants to snap, a knee-jerk reaction to the times where she wants to deny the truth. Yet, having personally witnessed the shocking gaps in his memories, his fluid shift from his gentle personality to his more sadistic side, makes her hesitant to call it that easily. Because the possibility is very much there, very much looming on the horizon and steadily advancing and  _entirely unstoppable._

Dispelling her thoughts with a quick shake of her head, she raps on the door before she gets any second thoughts and waits. Her guts squirm with a mixture of anticipation and worry at who will answer the door - if the door will even open at all. A vision of him lying in a pool of his blood, knife embedded in his eye and straight through his brain briefly flashes through her mind. Touka sucks in a breath, places a hand on the door to steady herself. He won't be that stupid, right? She desperately wishes so.

"Please wait for a moment," Kaneki - thank god it's Kaneki - calls out.

She grapples with the notion on whether to tell him what she had found in the library. Theories and postulations, just a group of old dodders in lab coats bandying about how things may work out according to the laws of nature. But there are always exceptions in everything, theories falling apart in the face of reality. She doesn't care how but Kaneki better fucking be a whole exception by himself, complete with death-defying odds and a strong will to hold onto himself because how many probabilities has he overturned when he turned into a half-ghoul? A whole fucking ton, that's what. Lady Luck better smile – heck, she better grin and load a bunch of luck and who knows what else on him because this is Kaneki she's talking about. The idiot who goes walking into the jaws of danger with his characteristic wide-eyed innocence and too much trust in this fucked up world.

Not that she minds, much.

She's been learning recently, that trust is good. Trust – or faith – that things will be fine. Has to be, if not what else is there pushing her? Definitely not because she has a soft spot for him or anything. I mean –

Further thoughts are left unaired when the door swings open and Kaneki peers in from behind the door, hair still dripping wet. "Good morning, Touka-chan."

She nods, and she does a quick look over. Touka chooses not to mention the faint purpling underneath his eyes, ink stains on his fingers and how his smile is strained slightly, as if it is physically hurting him to do so. There's a towel around his neck and he smells of the shampoo he uses, a warm and comforting scent. And beneath it all, her ghoul nose can sense a sour note underneath it. Bitter and noxious, it's the subtle scent of madness. She chooses not to make a mention on that and comments on the state of his room, a safer topic.

"What's with all the books?"

Kaneki looks back at the rows and rows of bookshelves lined with – what else? – books and turns back, "I like books."

No shit, Sherlock. I know that. "Eh," she replies for wont of anything to say. If she's feeling better, she would probably say something like, "Yea, must be why you're such a boring person." It would be said bluntly, with a raised eyebrow and Kaneki would shake his head and smile at her words, barely phased at all and pour a cup of coffee for her.

Speaking of which… "Are we going to talk out here?"

"Huh?"

She points to herself, then at where she is standing.

"Oh! Sorry, er please come in, Touka-chan." He ducks his head, neck flushing in embarrassment as he holds the door open for her. As she brushes past him, she has an urge to push back his damp hair from where they hang near his eyes. But that's a completely stupid thing to do so she doesn't.

They're on the three-seater sofa, both sipping cups of coffee and silence prevails in the atmosphere. It's not a bad silence, more of a companionable silence that sits comfortably around the room. She's sneaking glances, surreptitiously checking up on him, can't help but notes how tired he looks, from the way his hair hangs limply down his face till his slightly slumped position on the couch.

"What have you been doing at night?"

He's silent for awhile, taking a long drink as if forestalling having to answer her question.

"Writing," he eventually replies.

"A book?" She remarks sarcastically.

"Of sorts."

She's frustrated with his vague answer and some irritation seeps into her voice.

"What is it about?"

When he looks up at her, his eyes are a murky brown and she doesn't need him to tell her what he's been up to. Right now, she already knows.

She quickly looks away, one hand gripped tight in the fabric of her sweater.

"My memories," is all he says and they leave it as that.

She wishes she can take back the words the moment they leave her mouth: "Fuck it, Kaneki. If you need my help just spit it out already. Don't act like you're in this alone."

This is what Kaneki hears, "you're not alone, dumbass. Let me help."

He's tempted to, really. Break down and confess just how scared he is, terrified of losing all traces of his humanity, to be replaced by an indifferent creature whose sole purpose is to torment victims and gorge on human flesh. But to admit it to Touka? Someone whom he has but utmost respect and is a very important person in his life, should not have to deal with his mess.

It isn't self-importance that drives him. Rather, it's a twisted sort of self-sacrifice; believing that since he is the one suffering from the black thoughts, then he should not burden others with it. And it's just so Kaneki-like of him to think that he means nothing to the people who have come to care about him, that brings a sudden bark of laughter to his lips. Because as long as he can maintain his old personality, then some remnant of himself is still here, fighting to the last breath.

He's not fully changed.

He's still here and that's a relief.

Touka is frowning, confused at his sudden exclamation of laughter.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea…"

They lapse back into silence and Touka is getting frustrated. She's trying to reach out to him but all he's doing is distracting her with random laughs and barely answering her questions at all. Even as she presses him further, it feels like the thread of the conversation is slowly unravelling out of her grasp.

"I'm fine, you know. I did what you told me and I've written quite a lot of things," Kaneki says, aware of the deepening frown on Touka's face. It's just like him to think that he's worrying her and wants to allay her fears. But no, he's missing the point. The reason why Touka is frowning is because the more he pushes her away, the more she wants to grab him by the collar and demand that she be given something to do. Anything is better than simply watching the internal conflict in his eyes and he's not helping a damn bit if he's going to simply let it be. Anything is better than  _entirely unstoppable_  whispering traitorously through her head.

"Hey Touka, do you want to visit my mother's grave with me?"

The question comes out of a sudden, taking her by surprise.

"Why?"

He shrugs, "Just thought I should show you."

 _Before I forget about it,_  lies unsaid but not unheard, in the enfolding silence that accompanies his words.

"Oh, and I would like to give you some of my Classical Literature notes too. I think that they'll be useful for you in your studies."

And she's suddenly, utterly confused by his change in demeanour. First he subtly tells her not to worry about him, pushing her away and not divulging information. And then suddenly, he wants to share his past life and background with her? Inviting her to his mother's grave which is a whole chunk of emotional angst for him? And what's with the notes? So after you're gone, I would always have them to remember you by? Really, Kaneki? Really?

She knows she's being irrational right now. Over-thinking things and questioning his motives. But things are hectic; she barely understands what's going on in this world, much less Kaneki himself, and now she's being swept up with thoughts about Kaneki and the possibility of losing him and  _he's acting like everything is normal._

She loses patience then, "Just what are you playing at, Kaneki?

Her irritation isn't caused by the fact that she has a short temper these days and an even shorter tolerance level when it comes to him. Her main problem right now is Kaneki acting like his mental dissonance means nothing at all to him and he wants things to go back to what they were previously. But how can she do that? She's still haunted by the way he looked with the knife poised above his eye and desperation leaking out from the corners of his eyes to trail a wet path down his cheeks. And knowing that Kaneki is shutting her out of his torment, only showing the milder parts of his madness and hiding the true face of what he is enduring under painful smiles that crack at the edges makes her feel –

\- It makes her feel remarkably shitty.

"I'm going to the washroom." Before he can even open his mouth, she stands up abruptly and moves away, avoiding his eyes.

"…It's just at the back," comes his muted reply.

Walking down familiar hallways that she has visited before (" _seriously, what kind of green is this on your walls?"_ ), Touka runs a hand over the cupboards that host various knickknacks from his childhood (" _Did you make this pinwheel yourself?"_ ) and notices some coffee tins with the word 'Batch 9'and 'Batch 16' inscribed on some of them  _("Ugh, I still can't believe you agreed to be Yoshimura's guinea pig."_ ) sends a sharp ache spreading through her chest. It may be nostalgia or perhaps it could be melancholy but like hell are any of these appropriate. She's not some emotionally wrought damsel and she can walk down his hallway without being overwhelmed by a rush of memories. She's not that weak. She squares her shoulders and focuses on the last door, making her way as quickly as possible.

She shuts the door and leans against it.

She's reminded again, that she is teetering on a precipice, where one wrong move will have her plunging down, damn her good intentions. The truth is that right now, she has no idea what to do, no fucking clue on how to handle this. Every time she thinks she can pinpoint what's wrong with him, maybe pull him back from the abyss eating away at his memories, every time she thinks that maybe, just maybe there's a way out of this, she catches sight of the  _wrongness_  in his eyes. How strained and painful it is to keep up the pretenses of how much he's not hurting inside.

But he is. Badly.

Touka bites back a sound in her throat, the way it thrums and keens in her chest, aching with worry and sorrow. The tightness around her lungs seizes; hard.

It takes her some time to just breathe through her nose, inhale deep and exhale slow before she collects herself, draws her cloak of invulnerability around her stuttering heart and steps out.

She heads back to the room -

\- only to be confronted with Kaneki's whole body tensing up when she steps into his line of vision.

The fact that he is looking directly at her only makes it worse when she sees it. There is a terrible  _terrible_  emptiness in his eyes that reflects back cruelly in all its honesty.

"W-w-who are you?"

Touka's heart stops.

* * *

Footnotes:

Rabbit jacket incident: minor incident that occurred with Touka's jacket getting stained with coffee. Further details on who the culprit is can be found in chapter 4 of my other TG fic 'How to Love a Broken Thing'. Note that it's a oneshot so only that incident is in the same universe of The Centipede's Sting, should anyone be interested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a deep breath. Look out the window. Call some friends. Eat a sandwich. Laze around the beach. Play a game. Relax. Now look back. Look back at the last part of this chapter, think of the implications of what had just happened, what will happen and what it means for Kaneki and Touka who have been through so much together and -
> 
> C-C-Crack.
> 
> Yep, that's the sound of hearts splintering. Not sure if yours or mine. Might be both.
> 
> Don't forget to leave a review. I get to devour human souls with them. They're delicious.


	4. Mayfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to CharlietheSpider for your brilliant beta-ing skills and kudos to JuneEllie for the First Reader anaylsis.

 

_The fact that he is looking directly at her only makes it worse when she sees it. There is a terrible terrible emptiness in his eyes that reflects back cruelly in all its honesty._

_"W-w-who are you?"_

_Touka's heart stops._

The first thing Kaneki does is to fumble around for a weapon, and his hand closes around a pen.

With a disbelief that borders on hysteria, Touka watches him aim the sharp edge of the pen at her. A pen? Seriously? To fend off an intruder with nothing but a pen? It's laughably absurd, perfect for a prank- but this isn't one and Touka isn't laughing. Not with the way her throat's closing up and her breathing stutters traitorously.

She tries swallowing past the lump in her throat, forcing herself to speak. "I'm Touka, remember? Your friend at Anteiku and…"

At the word 'friend', he finally looks up at her and what she sees in his eyes is infinitely worse than the original sucker punch into her gut.

With blank, blank eyes, he intones, "I don't know you."

She has to stop herself from flinching from those barbed words that seem to dig deep in her flesh. There's something caught in her chest that she won't let free. She's forcing herself to look at him really, but her gaze keeps sliding away from the horrible emptiness in the whirlpool of his eyes, alien and unfamiliar.

When Kaneki lifts the pen up and warns, "Leave now or I'll call the police." His voice wavers a bit and that small bit of cowardice, of shrinking away when directly confronting someone, an inherent nature of Kaneki's, makes her – foolishly perhaps – take one step towards him.

Whatever she expects him to do next is nothing compared to what actually happened. Maybe he thought that she wanted to attack him and he reacted immediately, didn't even know what was happening except that there's a stranger in his house, there's a  _stranger_  in his house, there's a  _ **stranger**_  in his house. He might have been operating on fear and he rushes forward and grabs at a vase of flowers, brings it crashing down on her head.

There is a blinding impact and, stunned, she falls to the floor and her vision has gone blurry at the edges and damn, why isn't she standing up? Her limbs are being uncooperative and there's a dull ache behind her eyes.

It is well known that a ghoul's body is inhumanely strong and knives cannot pierce through their skin. But the one thing both humans and ghouls have in common is that a powerful blow to the head is effective. For humans, it would mean a split skull. For ghouls, it's temporarily incapacitation. While she recovers from the harsh blow, Kaneki has picked up another vase and is approaching her with it.

"Get away from me," he whispers and hefts up the vase, fearful yet determined. She watches him with a blurry vision, inwardly cursing herself for her foolishness.

She could have avoided his attack easily - she is an ukaku ghoul after all - and speed is her major strength. But the idea of considering Kaneki a threat to her doesn't sit well with her so she had stood bolted to the floor as he approached.

He is walking towards her again, another vase in his hands.

"Kaneki, I'm Touka, god damnit. Fucking remember who am I already, you shithead! KANEKI!" She cannot help the anger in her voice despite knowing that a cornered animal does not react well to violence. Instead, cornered animals need to be soothed with soft words and gentle hands but Touka isn't known for that. She deals with loss and pain in her own way.

She forgets then, that Kaneki isn't the only cornered animal here.

The vase shatters on the floor with a crash, razor sharp edges glinting in the light.

A shaky finger is pointing to something behind her back and Kaneki's eyes are wide open and unmistakably, filled with terror.

"Ghoul," he breathes.

Her kagune is out, a black and red swathe that cuts through the air and emits a low crackling sound. It is hardening against a threat, brought forth by the anger and desperation surging through her bloodstream.

Touka has to forcibly calm herself down. Kaneki is not a threat. Look at the way he holds himself, hesitant and unsure, stick-thin limbs that she can easily snap. He is no threat to her (none indeed, but her heart is thudding a tortuous rhythm and she finds her fists clenching. Some threats are not physical, after all, and Kaneki is always more than that.)

Her kagune has no place here and she stamps it down, retracts it back through sheer force of her will. The black flames waver and lose their wing-like shape, reluctantly melting back into nothingness and she's just a girl again, sprawled on the floor and her head pounding out a nasty beat.

"Please don't kill me," Kaneki whispers.

Throughout her life, she has always been met with scorn and fear whenever her kagune materialises. It's a perfect reaction to a monster. That's what she is anyway and she can't deny it. But to see it on the face on Kaneki - who's a ghoul himself and who has never flinched at her - now that sends a whole new level of pain spiking in her chest.

 _Because you're a monster and nothing can change that…monster, monster, monster,_ a sibilant voice hisses in her head, sounding exactly like her own.

For a moment, she has to look away.

In that instance when she takes he eyes off him, he does an unexpected thing: he grabs a fragment of the ceramic vase.

"That can't hurt me,' she says tiredly.

"No, it can't," he lifts his chin defiantly and points the sharp edges to himself. "But it can hurt me."

She's almost tempted to smile. Leave it to Kaneki's intelligence to figure out that he himself means something to her even if he doesn't know who she is.

The truth is that Kaneki was initially scared by the stranger in his own house who is a ghoul, of all things. But judging from the way she could have killed him with her kagune and how she had tried to persuade him to remember her, something in him is telling him that she will never willingly injure him. Not him. And the look of desperation on her face, well, it's sending his head into a chaotic mess.

So he picked up the shard and aimed it at himself and hoped it would somehow sort out the confusing jumble in his head.

In such a short amount of time, Kaneki has her weakness deduced and Touka can't help but feel a begrudging respect.

It doesn't last long.

Because Kaneki is a half-ghoul and aiming that ceramic shard at himself won't work. His skin is too tough. Nice try, Kaneki.

True enough, he presses the shards against his throat and when it doesn't cut a thin red line on his throat, realization flashes through his eyes.

Before he can freak out, Touka rushes in. "Listen, Kaneki. I know you're scared but you have to listen to me, you're a – "

"What am I?" He whispers, eyes filled with horror, clutching the shards tighter. When the ceramic crumbles in his grasp, the powdery sand slips between his fingers to the floor.

She can lie to him but the haunted expression on his face tells her that deceit is not the way. Not here. Not now.

She swallows. "You're a ghoul."

"No, no, no, no,  _no_." He shakes his head vehemently to and fro.

"You're actually a half-ghoul and you work at Anteiku. You know me…" The look she gives him is desperate and pleading, but there is still no recognition in his eyes.

"That's not true!" He spits, and two honest–to–god tears make their way down both sides of his face. "There's no way I would eat people! I'm human! I'm human, you hear me? I'm not a monster who would kill people. There must be a mistake, I'm sure of it! You must have gotten the wrong person, you don't know me at all! I can't be a monster like you, I'm just – "

A fist slams into his stomach, effectively cutting off his words. He gurgles, a string of saliva dribbling down a corner of his mouth as he lays gasping and twitching on the floor.

That idiot.

That fucking idiot.

That absolute _fucking_  idiot. How dare he say all this? How dare he claim that she doesn't know him at all? How dare he can't fucking remember her?

He's wheezing, face pressed to the floor and curled up like a foetus.

"Get up," she says tonelessly.

When he doesn't budge, she walks over and kicks him in the stomach.

He gives a choked gasp, eyes flashing with pain and he grits his teeth, places his hands on the floor and pushes himself up in an effort of will.

She squats in front of him, and levels her best 'don't give a fuck' glare at him, ignoring his flinch when she gets near.

"Your name is Kaneki Ken and you are a half-ghoul. I don't care what your feelings on being a ghoul are, but you will listen to me when I say that I'm on your side. Do you understand?"

He manages a jerky nod.

She almost believes that he has stopped fighting, allowed himself to be talked down by her but no; she was foolish to believe in that.

The moment she stands up and turns her back on him, black and red writhing tendrils burst forth from Kaneki's back.

She dodges just in time when she feels a strange undercurrent of wind.

That sneaky shit. For him to unleash his kagune on her when he realises that he himself is a half-ghoul?

There is an almost begrudging admiration for that. She had simply told him that he was a half-ghoul and he immediately tested out her information by trying to launch an attack on her. She would laugh if she wasn't so pissed.

Another clumsy attack from Kaneki and his kagune crashes into the spot she was at moments before.

He's going to pay for that.

Touka is up and running, weaving between Kaneki's makeshift spears that stab and slash across the air. His control of his kagune isn't good, probably because it's a new experience to this version of Kaneki and she makes use of it by dodging his clumsy attacks and slipping inside his defences. They're face to face and they go down in a tangle of limbs, each trying to pin the other down as they bite and punch and scratch.

A solid punch to her face disorients her for a moment and it's enough for Kaneki to scamper out of her grasp. She grabs the back of his shirt and wrenches him back, slamming him face-first into the wall. Groaning, he slides down to the floor. A twitch in his kagune is the only warning she got before a rush of his kagune roars past her face, barely missing her.

Too late; a stray kagune slithers out and slams into her, the force of it hurling the petite girl to the other side of the room, where she crashes into the pillar.

"Fucking shithead," she winces.

She's up again and launching a barrage of upper cuts and kicks meant to unbalance Kaneki but the forces of desperation, anger and confusion swirls in their veins, and they revert to the timeless dance of combat, every blow and slash either landing or skittering off a well-maintained defence.

The thought strikes Touka just as she blocks his kagune; Kaneki is surprisingly competent in a fight. Her training sessions with him have worked then. Of course, it is barely doing her any good in resolving this fight. She would feel proud if she wasn't trying to avoid getting punched in the face. Kaneki notices an opening in her defense while she is distracted by her thoughts. Before Touka can even blink, Kaneki delivers a vicious upper cut across her arm with the sharp edge of his kagune.

The shock of pain is quickly overridden by the adrenaline in Touka's system, but her sleeves are slowly getting soaked in blood.

Touka knows she has to end this soon and she goes all out in a melee of attacks and Kaneki must sense this too; because he has upped his offensive techniques and is launching solid blows coupled with the wickedly fast whips of his kagune.

So Kaneki slashes wildly and kicks and throws out his fist, while Touka is doing the same thing too, except she's not materialising her kagune. That's one mode of attack that she does not want to consider. Meanwhile, Kaneki's kagune repeatedly slams against the walls, writhing, contorting and scrabbling around for purchase before the two of them interlock in a clash of limbs and fists, one blood red eye to another, and each fighting like their life depended on it.

They are covered in a mixture of sweat and blood, and they've got a whole array of wounds ranging from bruises to lacerations. She ducks under his wild swing but gets a knee in her stomach, causing her hold on his arm to loosen. He reverses the hold so he's grabbing her arms instead and both of them slam to the floor. Kaneki recovers first and he rolls her over, Touka's back hitting the floor with a jarring impact. Her arms are pinned down by Kaneki's kagune and there are only inches separating their faces. They stay there for a moment, both breathing hard as he looks down at her wide eyes.

Very slowly, Kaneki's breathing becomes less hectic and his grip on her arms loosens fractionally. The tense lines on their bodies progressively loosen as the panicked look in his eyes gradually fades away. Touka can almost see it in his eyes, the way he comes back to himself, the realization of where he is and what he is doing. Even the way he looks at her is changing; his fear and confusion slowly giving way to absolute recognition. There's shock, and what comes next is shame and hatred toward himself. The last thing that she sees is pain, a bright explosion of it, before he releases his hold on her and moves away, turning his head to the side, eyes closed.

His kagune melts away, where previously they were encircling her limbs but now disappearing without a trace. It leaves red marks on her skin that mingles with the splotches of blood where she'd gotten slashed at.

"I'm sorry." It's a quiet thing, and the tone in which Kaneki says it is all sorrow and shame.

"It's fine," she says.

Except that it's not and they both know it.

The air feels thick and charged, as if a swirling tempest looms in the horizon, with all the words left unsaid and adrenaline still running through their system.

"It's been a long day," she says, voice flat and empty, "I'm going back."

His back is still facing her. "Yeah, it is."

It feels like she's running away as she limps out but no one can blame her. Everyone has their own breaking points and thus far, she has managed pretty well. A breakdown is probably what awaits her at the end of the day, after her brain has processed everything that had happened and registered the enormity of his actions. Of how the path from now on is filled with incidents like this, where her identity can be stripped bare in an instance.

Before she steps over the threshold to the outside world, Kaneki appears from behind her.

"Take it."

He holds out his jacket towards her.

"Why?"

His expression turns strained and his smile, a small thing, falters at the edges. His gaze flicks to her injuries, at the blood drying on the numerous slash wounds on her body, most of them not very deep but sure to raise some eyebrows and suspicion on the way back home.

For a moment, she stares at him like a lion, fierce and unrelenting, muscles locked tight in anticipation. For what, she's not even sure herself. Just knows that this is just the beginning of his undoing and already, everything is unravelling out of her grasp and she can't have that, hates having to lose control, hates having to see  _him_  lose control while she can only bear witness to it.

She hates it so very much.

Touka's hatred bites and turns inwards, claws deep and festers into bitterness, cuts into her chest with how helpless she was throughout.

"Thanks." She resolutely avoids his touch when he hands it over.

The truth is that she cannot blame Kaneki for what has befallen him. It is the natural progression of unstable things to decay. What grates instead is that she must now bear the consequences of his presence in her heart, knows that she must cut the connection between them lest she ends up hurt.

Not like it makes any difference now.

He's already in her heart.

She's in it too deep.

* * *

Kaneki watches the crumbling ruins in her eyes, sees the anguish in them and for a moment, he completely forgets about the past events. Instead, his mind rushes with memories of her; foot tapping impatiently as she watches him make coffee, how she'll saunter towards him when she is clearly late and a look on her face that literally  _dares_  him to make a comment on it. Or how some times, her eyes will gleam with satisfaction whenever he perfects a move she taught him and the way she'll cast a sideway glances at him whenever he's working, always making sure that he's handling things fine.

In one smooth motion, he pulls her towards him and wraps his arms around her small figure before he can think twice about it.

There's a single second that stretches into eternity that he has literally made the worst mistake in his life. Where she'll shove him away and knee in him in the balls the same time as her fists will slam into his face. Then Touka takes in a choked breath, pulls him closer and digs her fingers deep into his shirt.

"Fuck," she whispers brokenly, "fuck, fuck, fuck," and he places a hand on her back and tries not to break, even though he desperately wants to.

He wants to tell her,  _I'm sorry, I never meant for this to happen._

He wants to tell her,  _I'm thankful that you're still here, still willing to remain despite what has just transpired._

He wants to tell her,  _everything will be okay, that everything will turn out fine and she wouldn't have to worry about him or his memories and that he will always remember the gentle warmth in her gaze. He wants to tell her that she isn't a monster, that being a ghoul is not equivalent to living a life scorned and hated by the masses. Most of all, he wants to go down on his knees and promise her that he will stay by her side, unbroken, unscarred and undeterred and ensure that their time at Anteiku will be an eternity and a future rolled into one that they will span their whole lifetime_.

But the problem with promises is that they cannot hold up in the face of reality or the test of time. Promises can become lies and what they're left with would be worth nothing at all. He is worth nothing, nothing  _scritch scritch scritch_ at all _._

Kaneki sews his mouth shut and hugs her tight. She bunches her fist into the front of his shirt and neither of them can see the glimmer on each other's cheeks.

* * *

They part with bowed heads and clenched fists and he watches her back getting smaller and smaller away from him, both too proud and stubborn to face each other. It's only when he can't see her back anymore does Kaneki close the door and brace his back against it. Already, his fingers are getting cold and he misses her warmth and closeness. From the gloom of his mind, an image of the bewildered hurt and pain in her gaze spreads like a fresh bruise.

 _Memory cannibalisation_.

What has he done? It seems to be a recurring question after every episode of his memory lapses although this time, he didn't slip into the bloodthirsty version. It's something more subtle and simple, just a few memories vanishing into an endless black for awhile. While it may be less destructive than outright killing someone, it is no less devastating. The look in her eyes? That is not something that he will forget so easily. He is sure it will haunt him like a phantom, stalking his nightmares and staining them pitch black.

He has hurt Touka with his words, attacked and harmed her in more ways than one, all because he lost control of his mind.

I'm sorry, Touka, he thinks desperately, digging his fingers into his scalp. The words feel hollow in his head.

_I am so fucking sorry._

He considers simply…leaving. Giving up. Find a far flung corner of the world and hide there until his body waste away.

There's one thing that he doesn't tell anyone, barely admits it to himself: for all the memories that he forgets and then remembers… some of them  _don't come_   _back_. Even now, he can remember the day his mother died but he doesn't know what was she doing before she died. And Touka? He knows her but the things they do in Anteiku are a little hazy. Coffee and plates and cleaning and - there are more but his memories are getting fewer and more indistinct.

There's something in his head that's eating away at his memories, crunching them to dust and it goes  _scritch scritch scritch._

No doubt now; he is truly mad, his sins irredeemable and his mind a lost cause. Soon, he will no longer be able to distinguish between memory and reality, friend and foe, past and future.

He tucks himself into the corner, and shuts his eyes, tensing his body in anticipation of the tremors that soon follow, shivers travelling up his legs and around his hands, his chest shaking, shaking, shaking. No tears come, and a feeling of numbness envelops him like a cocoon.

Things become…distant.

As much as he originally wants to believe it, the thing that is affecting him isn't some sort of tumour growing in his head. It's not a cancer, not a disease of his mind, not a separate monster chewing down on his personality, shovelling memory after memory into its fanged mouth. It's nothing like that.

Because the truth is much worse, hurts more, cuts deeper.

It's him.

It's his own body betraying him. It's his thoughts straining under the weight of being both human and ghoul and surely something must have cracked, snapped and collapsed into an abyss. It's because of the ghoul in him, and the fact that he's a half-ghoul doesn't make a difference. Ghouls and humans, conflicting forces, tearing his mind asunder.

Memory cannibalization is bad but the sole blame still lies in him, with him, within him.

It's him.

It's all his fault.

Entirely.

He does not blank out entirely, but it takes him a long, long time before he finally lifts his head, opens his eyes.

By the time he's aware of his surroundings, it's already night.

He gets up and stumbles into his room, feeling like a drained-out shell, and just as he collapses on his bed, he notices a text message from Touka:  _Feeling okay?_

He hesitates before he texts back, wants to tell her that it's not that okay. Just doing it is terrifying, something that he can't say out loud, is acknowledging that his façade is crumbling to ashes and he can't keep up, that he's stuck in something really bad and has not one single idea on how to move on from here. He's always been acting strong, he doesn't want Touka to worry about him but after today, he knows it doesn't work like that.

Bad things have already happened and things are only going to get worse from here. Pretending hasn't help and what he didn't tell her only served to make it worse when she saw it happening before her very eyes. There's no use for white lies now, given what has happened today. He owes her a bit of the truth so he replies:  _No, I'm not. Feels like I'm going to break down any moment._

It only takes a few second for his screen to light up with a message.  _Really?_

_Yeah._

There, he has admitted it. Something feels strangely lighter in his chest, a briar of thorns that has retreated to let a bit of sunlight through.

_Me too._

He takes a moment to breathe, appreciate what she has done. For Touka to admit it too, well…it makes things seemed better. Less bleak, knowing that he isn't alone in this, that he has someone in his corner all the time and well, it's not much, but he feels like the tide of war may just have turned.

_Goodnight Touka._

_Goodnight Kaneki._

At the same time, the two ghouls turn over in their beds and drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

As the next day dawns over, Touka doesn't come over. Kaneki doesn't expect her to.

He takes this time to heed her advice, he continues writing down all his memories onto ink and paper, translates light and sounds and noise and ideas into concrete language, sharp and defining. It's not therapeutic, not exactly, but his head is quiet and everything around him stills into peaceful serenity as his hands move across the paper and he relives in his head memory after memory.

Kaneki is a mayfly, living and dying for the span of each memory, getting reborn with every fragment he can record down and dying with every dead end his memories lead to. He exists solely to remember, to recall in perfect clarity the experiences that have shaped his identity and personality that allow him to have faith in the world.

He rises to the pinnacle of joy when his thoughts are in sync, each words resonating through him and within him for what he knows to be a real and solid memory that is his and his alone, untainted by blood or madness. And he falls, plunges, a screeching descent, when the dark thing in his mind flexes, grins, writes down the bloody memories in his own hands while tear drops hit the page. It is still a memory, however twisted it may be, and having a memory is better than the cold and silent void in a corner of his mind, a blank empty patch that resides like a black hole, gaping wide like an ugly slash wound.

As the Sun dips below the buildings, threads of violet and orange clouds slowly turn dark at the edges with the encroaching night. A cold wind picks up speed, snaking its way along the streets of the 20th Ward, causing commuters to huddle in their baggy coats and quicken their pace as they make their way to their homes where they would be safely cocooned in familiar walls that block the wind and erase the cold from their bodies.

All but one.

The cold isn't physical. It's deeper than that, nestling in the corner of his heart, bundled in the nerves where it coils around his blood vessels like a poisonous snake and pumps icy venom into its vein.

Kaneki is shivering, his hands are cramped with the pages of notes he has written for himself, ranging from a small fragment of memory of him getting burnt to a fractured arc on the day his mother had died, where everything had washed out to grayscale and shadows.

Everything, he is, he was, and ever will be, furiously scrawled down on paper in a fit of feverish writing. He writes in big, bold letters that are slightly cramped with the sheer deluge of memories he is trying to pen down on paper.

 _Remember_ , the words scream at him and he hopes the words would ping on his radar when he succumbs to the madness one day.  _Remember_ , the word echoes and he weaves it into all of Hide's sun-drenched smiles, threads it through every small blossoming of warmth in Touka's eyes and then entwines it through the friendships he has made with the other ghouls, how they feel like a light piercing through the gloom of his loneliness.  _Remember_ , he tells himself and locks the resolution in his chest.

He's not done yet, there are things he hasn't yet captured, things like the nightmares he has where everyone he knows leaves him and all he can do is just scream and scream and scream. Other things like how he loses control, sometimes, his kagune seemingly moving of its own accord and spearing through flesh and bone and how excitement bubbles in his chest. And also, things like how he wished that he had never met Rize, never met the ghouls at Anteiku at all and never turned into a half-ghoul so he wouldn't have these complications ruining his life.

When these thoughts enter his mind, he guiltily shoves them aside to a deep corner and slams a lid on them. He scrawls these horrible thoughts at the sides, writing in the most illegible handwriting he can muster that would require some time to discern the exact words.

He pulls on his hair distractedly, and when some strands fall to the floor, he barely notices it, caught up in the fervour of the moment, and loses himself.

Kaneki is a mayfly, he is every single life flaring and dying like tiny embers, and he regains his identity step by painful step, reclaims even the most warped thoughts locked up in a chest which he pens down, redeeming himself in every word that his heart bleeds out on paper, and from the broken wreckage of his mind and the tortured symphony of his soul, he looks deep into himself and finds…peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make it up for the last chapter's horrid ending, I have decided to end this chapter on a more hopeful note.
> 
> Have a good day. :)


	5. There is singing in the madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all readers, it's heartening to know that you're all along for this ride. Because this fic is not even halfway done. There's going to be more madness, despair and darkness, but there are going to be light moments too; where the characters live, laugh and learn. Do you hear that? That's the sound of adventure singing in the winds, calling out to the wildness in our soul. Stories may just be words string together, but really, stories are a whole world of adventure and excitement. Oh boy, is it going to be FUN.
> 
> Big thanks to charliethespider for being an awesome beta, as always. And my gratitude also goes to June Ellie for being my wonderful First Reader. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

 

Lately, Kaneki can't sleep.

There are nightmares bleeding through his eyes, viscera dripping out from the wounds in his mind and a song gliding into his ears. It has a jaunty tune, whimsical and lilting, winding around his head and echoing in the chambers of his thoughts.

_Incy wincy centipede crawling in me,_

_Up goes my blood and down goes my brain,_

_Out came the centipede and ate up all my pain_

_And incy wincy centipede is crawling up again…_

His eyes snap open and he gulps in air like a drowning man. Sweat streaks down his back and neck and he shuts his eyes, opens them again. When his bed is still a bed and his table looks like wooden furniture, he slumps back down.

He's in the real world now. Sometimes, it's hard to tell.

The alluring power of dreams is that everything seems so real, just like how his bed had turned into a centipede and dug into his ribcage while the table was slicing off his fingers one by one.

 _It's over_ , he tells himself, and wishes he could believe it.

When his heart rate and breathing has reached a more normal rate, he gets out from his bed and looks desolately at the clock.

1.15am.

Pushing his sweat drenched hair out of his face, he walks over to the window and nudges it open, welcoming a breeze of cool air onto his face.

The silence he finds in the middle of the night is something that he cannot find elsewhere. As the city's inhabitants slumber, the land is blanketed by a layer of serenity and peace, a comforting silence that stretches for miles wide. Perpetual darkness covers the land as a few starts twinkle overhead. A whisper of wind streams past his face, causing his curtains to billow around him like a friendly ghost, before gently draping itself over the boy's shoulder.

Every night, he has been looking at the scenery outside. Buildings, tall and wide, short and spout, with pockets of greenery in between them. Trees, with their majestic branches burdened with leaves thrust into the skies and gently sway in the wind.

He stays there for an hour, trying to find the tranquillity in himself.

Things are okay for a while, until they aren't.

The absence of any sound or movement in the world, comforting at first, suddenly grates. He can almost feel the emptiness yawning out far and wide, dark and blooming against his mind. His fingers furiously dig into his scalp as the familiar strains of the song haunt the walkways of his mind again.

… _Incy wincy centipede crawling in me …._

The second hand on his clock slices through time with every revolution, cutting it into smaller strips. Still he remains unsettled and restless, taking to pacing his room as sleep and peace both elude him.

…  _Up goes my blood and down goes my brain …_

The third hour approaches and passes, and he finds himself chewing on his fingernails, crunching on them like a mad animal.

… _Out came the centipede and ate up all my pain …_

When he finally realises that all he has accomplished are just bloodied nails and ripped out hair, he curls in on himself and gives up on the lost cause.

… _And incy wincy centipede is_ _ **crawling**_ _up again…_

He considers calling Touka but quickly dismisses the thought. Touka can't help him. No one can.

She can't stop the singing. Or the giggling that crawls up his throat. Or the way the images of Kimi and Nishiki's mutilated corpses press against his eyelids whenever he closes his eyes.

Sure, he may have told Touka some part of his spiral downwards but she cannot understand.

She has not been tainted by madness, has not danced with it under the blood moon, has not tasted its fruits, salty with an iron tang stinging her tongue.

She does not  **know**  what it is like to have her mind splintering apart; where everything she once knew or thought she knew was dragged screaming down into the dark depths of her mind.

In short, Touka cannot help him.

He is alone, and there is no one to pull him up from the quicksand.

"I'm alone," he whispers, torn and ragged. It doesn't feel like enough so he says it again, louder, "I'm alone." And his voice still sounds thin and threadbare, doesn't manage to capture the enormity of his situation so he says it again, screams it out from his throat, "I'm alone!"

The wind now picks up speed and he can hear it shrieking through the cracks of his window, cold claws slashing at his face, hands and neck.

His words reverberate deep into his skull; I'm alone, I'm alone- and echo around the catacombs, echoing along his brain and flinging themselves deeper into the caves of his mind, I'm alone alone alone alone, like a mantra repeated over a thousand times, over his countless sins and dead bodies piling up one by one.

He has been alone from the very moment he was born, meant to bear the tortured legacy of a half-ghoul by himself. Something within him cracks like glass, shatters into shards that slice him into ribbons of sorrow and madness. He's alone and alone, too far away to get help and too far gone to receive any.

He's alone, and he can never be the Kaneki Ken before, whoever that person was, whoever that person might be. A kind bookworm, an avid reader, a best friend, a hard worker, a soft-spoken boy who loves the world.

His past and once-could-be future. None of which he can return to.

Because all the possibilities of Kaneki Ken have collapsed into one:  _murderer._

The truth is here, looking right back at him in the middle of night, where shadows grin at him with jagged teeth and drip blood down his floors. He's looking right back at the face of truth, finally staring it in the face after all this time: he's alone.

* * *

Morning dawns over, slow and reluctant, the light sluggishly moving over the city as the Sun inches up into the sky like an old man limping. The sky turns a surly gray, casting the trees a sickly shade of yellowish-green. Even the landscape was not spared; cars giving off a muted reflection and windows letting in a sallow light.

With ashen skin and bags under his eyes, Kaneki stumbles into his bathroom. The mirror that hangs over his sink is long gone, resting in a garbage dump somewhere, cracked beyond recognition.

There are some things that Kaneki doesn't need to see, and there are some things that he shouldn't see but does anyway.

Throwing out the mirror was the best decision.

Splashing water at his face, the beads of water drip down his ghostly face. A minute tremor shudders through his fingers and he drops his toothbrush. He picks it up, one eyelid twitching madly.

Once he's done Kaneki lumbers over to the kitchen, head a foggy mass of exhaustion. On autopilot, his feet find themselves next to the fridge and he's already halfway reaching for something - a bottle of relish, a carton of milk, whatever it is, all he knows is that he needs to take something out from the fridge - does he jolt upright. His hand jerks to a stop.

Looking uncomprehendingly at his kitchen, he blinks a few times. Swallows. Takes in a deep breath.

What did he think he was  _doing?_

Did he just think that he could eat human food? He has to hold back a burst of hysterical laughter.

The food in his apartment isn't for eating, they're for pretences. He needs to pretend to be human, he needs to pretend that he needs sustenance; he needs to pretend that he's normal.

And Kaneki…Kaneki see red, for a moment. He feels fury gripping him tight, makes him want to throttle something and break a few bones. He's angry beyond words at how  _fucked up_ his life has become. What does he need all these human food for? To keep up pretences that he is a human?  _Well, he isn't one any longer!_

He doesn't need to pretend, why does he have to pretend? Why pretend when you're a monster, rotten to the core and nothing left to salvage? Why pretend to be human, pretend to be a normal student with his pathetic human problems, when in fact, he is  _anything_  but that?

_What's the fucking point?_

He stomps over to the fridge, wrenches out a bottle and downs it one gulp –

\- and promptly spit the entire thing out, splattering the walls with the liquid.

"What the fuck?" He snarls and the taste of it is still in his mouth, bitter and burning like a noxious concoction of unrefined oil, the intensity slamming into his taste buds. Overcome with a sudden wave of hatred at the bottle, he can't help himself.

He brings his hand back and hurls it to the opposite end of the room. It shatters explosively as Kaneki watches the shards implant themselves into the walls, the remaining drink gushing out like a severed artery. Vicious satisfaction curls in his guts and he wants more; more destruction, craves it in his bones, wants to tear everything down into ruins.

Like a madman, he whips around and prowls over to his cupboards and refrigerator. He wrenches out all the food and hurls them to the floor, chucking them forcefully behind him. As he moves away, he tramples berries underfoot and crushes the vegetables, their stalks snapping into half. He feels unhinged, a loose cannon revelling in the violence.

He does not care.

After all, why should he?

Everything is just a farce, a stupid mask, just him playing at a human.

Breathing hard, he stands in the middle of the mess and his eye catches a loaf of bread. An idea hits him then, so wild and ambitious and positively stupid that he doesn't even bother to think twice. He snatches up the bread and shoves it into his mouth. He crams in lettuce and cheese and grapes and cranberries, chews it vigorously like a maddened thing, shoving food after food into his mouth until his cheeks bulged into monstrous proportions. He stuffs the food into his mouth, all the reminders of his human life, until he makes himself sick and vomits all over.

His knees hit the floor painfully as his digestive system rebels. A mass of misgivings pours out of his throat, the vomit warm and sour on his tongue.

As he reaches for some water to wash the taste out of his mouth, he accidentally grabs some fruit juice instead. Rather than spitting it out, a whole wave of vomit rises and it spatters onto the ground, hot and acidic. The stench makes him gag and his face goes several shades paler.

Cold sweat forms on his back and forehead as he stands, breathing hard with eyes that look too wild, belonging more to a wounded animal than a half-ghoul.

Because it is stupid, he is stupid, everything in this fucked up world is stupid. And he hates it all, resents everything that's happening to him.

Stumbling over to the counter, he viciously sweeps his hands across the top, sending pots and pans clattering to the floor in a cacophony of noise. For good measure, he upturns all his drawers and all manner of forks and spoons and cutlery crashes to the floor in a clanging din.

"Fuck you all!" he yells at the top of his voice, crazed and violent.

He flings another glass bottle at the wall again, hurls it with all his strength and it explodes against the wall.

He does it again and again because the sound of shattering glass is the closest thing he feels to right now. A part of him is pleading him to stop this madness, but he bites his cheeks to hold back a crack of laughter.

Stop the madness?

As if he can even do that.

Bitterness burns in his chest and that's when a spasm of pain hits and he finds himself on his knees again, puking his guts at the floor. Vomiting out a string of saliva, bile and remnants of food, he shudders as his stomach clenches and twists on itself. The putrid smell of vomit, half eaten food and drinks combine together, to form a noxious fog that sends another rush of vomit spewing out.

He is sick and cold and sweaty, shivering even in the heat of the day. He is tired of having to deal with everything, exhausted at his earlier craze and he sinks to the floor, drained.

Ultimately, he is pathetic.

The anger that was previously sustaining him ebbs away, leaves him pale and shaky. In its wake comes regret, a whole ocean of it

Was that him just now, wasting all that food and vomiting it out like a fucking idiot? Was that him hurling the glass at the walls, like shattering all of them would give him some sort of closure he desperately wants and needs?

Who in the right mind will even do any of that?

It takes a moment before the irony of that statement sinks in but this time, anger doesn't rush back with a vengeance. His chest feels hollow, empty like it always was these days, where no amount of coaxing can get any emotions to spark.

He feels like a dead thing.

Lifting his head, Kaneki looks at the wrecked kitchen. Throughout the place, there are upturned pots and pans and scattered cutlery. In the middle of the kitchen lies the pile of food strewn haphazardly around and next to it, the rancid puddles of vomit stinking up the air. At the corner, the glass fragments of the bottles glint mockingly at him, as if laughing at him for his lack of control. Below that, rivers of drinks swirl on the floor, sure to stain the wood.

He is sorry now, knowing the extent of damage he had wrought in a fit of madness.

Bone deep exhaustion sneaks into his bone as Kaneki sweeps up the shards and salvages whatever food he can, gingerly placing them into their respective cupboards and fridge. He mops the floor and doesn't look too hard at the stains, doesn't want to see how the liquid looks dark red – probably a cheap cherry flavoured juice – but under the right li ght, it flares to a richer deeper crimson, reminding him too much of last breaths and unclean hands.

By the time he has finished and restored some semblance of order in his kitchen, he feels a small sliver of control slipping back.

Clearing the mess had given him an outlet, a catharsis that steadied his thoughts. Looking at the clean area, Kaneki smiles, pleased with himself.

A prickle of guilt tingles in his head. In the shameful glow of hindsight, he realises he should not have lashed out at Touka in his thoughts. She's trying her best, and the best is all anyone can do, really.

So he makes up his mind to visit Anteiku, knows that the warm atmosphere of coffee and friends is what he needs after days of isolation.

* * *

Pushing open the doors of the café, they emit a little  _ring_  to signal a new arrival.

A blue-haired waitress steps lightly around the tables and comes face to face with the visitor.

"Welcome," Touka smiles.

"Hello Touka," Kaneki greets, and gives a small smile.

Touka is not a fool, she takes one look at him and suspects he just suffered another breakdown. Like all wounded animals, they will return to some place where they know it's safe. In other words, home. Kaneki is no different from a wounded animal in this case and Touka feels a spark of appreciation that he has chosen Anteiku to go to. It's the first time he has willingly sought out company after the whole ordeal began.

"Do you want to go to the back room to rest or sit at the tables in the shop front?" She asks, hoping that he'll choose the option to remain in sight instead of retreating to the back.

"Just a table for one, please." He murmurs.

Touka brings him over to a side table, where his back faces the wall and he can watch over the happenings of the shop in ease.

"Kaneki," Touka begins hesitantly, "Do you need any help?"

She still can't get the incident out of her mind, where his memory had slipped away for a moment, leaving her to deal with a stranger with Kaneki's face. If she is still shaken by it, Touka knows that Kaneki would be feeling ten times as worse.

"I'm not sure, but I'm holding up okay. Well," Kaneki's smile turns self-deprecating, "As okay as I can be, at any rate. I've been writing my memories down lately, hopefully that'll delay it."

 _Delay the inevitable_ , remains unsaid but not unheard in the silence.

"Hey Kaneki – " Touka starts.

"No, Touka." Kaneki interrupts, "I already know." Silver glints in his eyes,  _There's nothing you can do._

Swallowing past the sudden the lump in her throat, Touka takes in a breath and says, "What would you like to drink?"

Changing topics. Smart girl. Kaneki nods his head in acknowledgement, grateful for the reprieve she gives him. This whole thing isn't over, he knows. Just that both of them are tired of circling around the same issue over and over again.

Touka leaves him to his own thoughts casting one worried look at the half-ghoul before walking away. Placing his chin on his hand, Kaneki idly tracks the movements in the coffee shop. The usual hustle and bustle of the customers soothes the agitation in him, cools the restlessness he feels and sends him drifting, halfway between sleep and not-sleep. The murmuring of conversations, punctuated by occasional laughter, with the language rising and falling like a wave around him drives the restlessness out of his limbs. Through it all, the robust scent of coffee permeates the air, drawing out pleasant memories from the archives of his memories.

"What's with the melodramatic air, Kaneki? You look like an old king surveying his kingdom." Enji teases, bringing over Kaneki's order. At the counter, Irimi catches sight of Kaneki and smiles, giving him a small wave. Kaneki returns the wave and gratefully takes the cup of coffee from Enji.

"Ah, nothing much," Kaneki scratches the back of his head, "Just reminiscing."

"You sure that's the only thing you're doing? You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"Just exam stress, it's nothing to worry about really."

"Yeah, cause that would explain why your eye bags are turning into a black bottomless pit of despair." Enji frowns, forehead scrunching up with worry. "Are you alright?"

Instead of replying, Kaneki takes a sip of the coffee and lets out a sigh filled with contentment.

"Ah, I missed this taste. Anteiku makes the best coffee."

Enji decides to drop the subject and responds, "Of course Anteiku has the best damn coffee ever existed. After all," he sticks out a thumb and points it at himself, "The master is in the house!"

The dangerously mild voice of the manager cuts in, "Is that so?"

"Uh," Enji angles his thumb until he's pointing at Yoshimura who is watching them with an amused tilt of his lips. "The master is in the house!" He repeats, making it clear that he means no disrespect to the patriarchal figure of Anteiku.

"Thank you, Enji." Yoshimura rumbles.

"You're welcome, sir."

The three of them stay silent after that, Kaneki sipping his coffee, Yoshimura standing stoically at his side and Enji fidgeting in the enfolding silence. Awkwardness descends on the atmosphere before Yoshimura realises that Enji needs more prompting, "Shouldn't you be back to work?" He lifts one eyebrow for maximum effect.

It works like a charm.

"Ah yes. Work. Right. " Enji smartly makes a 180 degrees turn and leaves them alone.

Kaneki smiles into his coffee.

"And what about you? Your shifts in Anteiku has been drastically reduced due to some sort of school exam you told me. How are you, Kaneki?"

Racking his brain for how to answer this question, Kaneki is saved from answering when Touka walks up to Yoshimura.

"Sir, it's Tsukiyama. There's been an…incident."

Turning his full attention to the girl, he asks, "What happened?"

The atmosphere plunges, taking on a more serious note. The two males are waiting for the horrifying truth to be revealed, wondering if Tsukiyama had betrayed them all and shown his true nature. Touka's face is carved from stone and none of them could discern her thoughts on the matter, fuelling their trepidation.

She takes a deep breath and exhales. Straight faced, she tells them, "Tsukiyama has…gotten his leg stuck in the toilet bowl."

If Yoshimura was the sort of person who would face palm himself at the sheer idiocy of his fellow allies, he would have done it. As it is, he merely lifts up one eyebrow. "And?" He prompts.

"…And he used his kagune to get his leg out, but ended up damaging the sewage system. The enfolding result is an…" Touka clears her throat. "…An explosion of um.. sewage. Especially on his face."

She coughs. "His outfit and dignity is ruined and he's…inconsolable."

Both males exchange similarly horrified looks. If there's one thing that is positively sacred in the eyes of Tsukiyama, it would be his garish and dramatic suits.

"The outfit he wore today was his purple one." Touka says, almost apologetically.

Out of all his suits, the Holy Grail of them all would be his bright purple suit. On cue, an agonized cry of pain rends the air, filled with so much sorrow that it sounds almost inhuman. Many of the customers turn their heads to the sound, a few dropping their cutlery in shock. Yoshimura immediately goes to soothe the customers, silently communicating to the two youths to settle the matter.

As Touka and Kaneki rush over to the source of his noise, Kaneki briefly wonders how his life has gotten this strange. A year ago, he would never have thought he'll have switched species, made a whole bunch of friends in a coffee shop and started losing his sanity. It feels almost surreal, now that he thinks about it. All these thoughts flee his mind when he comes near Tsukiyama, or the Tsukiyama-shaped figure.

"Get away from me!" the brown and purple thing screeches at them before throwing itself into a spare room and slamming the door shut in front of their faces.

"Tsukiyama, it's alright! We'll get you a new change of clothes and you can shower properly." Touka is resolutely avoiding insulting Tsukiyama now. From his dishevelled state, she thinks that he deserves some slack.

"I'm a monster!" He wails behind the closed door.

Even though there is a solid block of wood between them, the acrid smell of sewage is pervasive enough that Touka and Kaneki have to wrap pieces of cloth around their noses.

"I am useless, absolute trash. A disgrace to beauty and fine art everywhere. I am pathetic, let me die in peace." Tsukiyama blubbers.

His words then degenerate into a series of sobs and snivelling, before breaking into howls of sorrow that no amount of comfort Kaneki and Touka offer could do anything to soothe him. Truth be told, the ghouls could easily knock down the door but they want to give Tsukiyama a measure of privacy for his wretchedness and they leave him alone, sobbing alone as he despairs over his faux pas.

Standing outside of Anteiku to enjoy the sunshine (and fresh air), the two ghouls take a breather - literally.

"That was a once in the lifetime experience." Touka comments.

They're still in a bit of a daze, having some issues wrapping their mind around what'd just happened. So it's not entirely his fault when Kaneki blurts out, "It was intense. I guess that's a shitty situation."

By sheer willpower, Touka keeps a straight face, "Yeah, he sure had a crappy day."

Right on cue, Kaneki replies, "This is what happens when shit gets real."

"That's enough, Kaneki. I think I've turd enough puns."

"Well, the manure you know."

Touka deadpans, "Are you in a crappy mood?"

"Don't talk crap, Touka." Kaneki replies impassively.

They catch each other glancing from the corner of their eyes and it takes a moment of repressed silence before they burst into laughter like a bunch of school children, sharing in the hilarity of the moment.

"Don't give me that shit-eating grin, you bastard!"

When it all comes down to it, they're all just five years old.

* * *

Making his way home, he cannot help the smile that steals his face.

Kaneki knows better than to think that just because he is feeling as light as a feather now means that this will last. Soon, the warmth in his chest is going to evaporate into thin air and what is going to be left is rife with darkness. But before that happens, he wants to cherish this moment.

This is the reason why he must fight, why he must not go gently into the night but fight with tooth and claw.

Anteiku.

The sheer vibrant nature of the place and its people, with its preposterous myriad of personalities, from an overly dramatic show-off to a hot-headed girl with too many puns, from a cheerful Devil Ape to a supportive Black Dog. And of course, the heading over it all is none other than Yoshimura.

These are the people he must  _protect_ , these are the people he must  _remember_.

* * *

Back home, he takes a significant amount of time trying to convey his memories of today's event on paper. It just seems so…ridiculous.

It doesn't help that the absurdity of the situation hits him from nowhere and leaves him laughing for minutes at times before subsiding into gentle mirth.

 _I don't know how to begin_ , he writes,  _but I think I saw something that I was never meant to see. In fact, I don't think anyone was supposed to see a dishevelled Tsukiyama._

Kaneki bites his lips and quells his laughter.  _It simply isn't possible and yet, it happened. Tsukiyama, or Shittyama - as he is now named by my work colleague Enji Koma – encountered an unfortunate incident regarding vast amount of sewage material and himself. The end result was not pleasant, both in sight and smell. Who knew purple and brown could clash so horribly?_

After finishing his entry, he leans back on his seat, looking at the ceiling above him. On a whim, he decides to flip back to his previous entries and read some of them. He has not taken a look at what he has written so far, so consumed in his feverish writing that he hadn't bothered to read what sort of things that lay in his notebook.

He flips to the first page –

\- and hurls it to the opposite side of the room.

"What the  _hell_?" He snarls, heart slamming madly against his ribcage. A creeping sensation starts up from his shoulder blades. As he shakily moves across the room to pick up the notebook, he knows that whatever lies ahead has bad news written all over it.

Red.

That is what greets him when he bends to pick up the book, holding it gingerly between his fingers like it's going to whip around and bite him. Pages after pages of a burning, hellish  _red._

It's everywhere.

It is the same scrawl that was in his notes, the one that had made him fail his test when the red handwriting covered all the knowledge printed on paper. The one that is currently with Hide, claiming that he could find out the mysterious vandal.

The one handwriting…that started this entire madness.

This time, the words were different. Where it had once mentioned centipedes, the current words staring back at him are chilling: _Did you miss me?_

_Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?_

Over and over again, the same thing written in jagged lines and bloody ink. At times, the force of the pen had punctured the paper cleanly through, leaving a rent in the flimsy pages.

Kaneki's jaws hang loose with shock, fingers numb. He was so sure the notebook idea would work, would allow him redemption in some form and yet, it's completely destroyed. He didn't even  _know_. When did that happen? Hours ago? Days ago? Weeks ago?

When had it began? Who was writing down the memories – him or the monster?

_Was he even writing his memories down in the first place?_

He collapses to his knees and the notebook falls from deadened fingers to hit the floor with a soft thump. It lands to the side and some pages flutter by.

Kaneki can hardly believe his eyes. There are black words in the other pages and hope springs into his chest. He grabs the book and flips the pages maniacally, trying to pinpoint when the red begins and ends

"Oh thank you, thank you,  _thank you_ " Kaneki breathes. Because only the  _first five_  pages are affected, while the rest are in pristine conditions, the solid letters of the other pages remains untainted, strong and real in the world. The words are an anchor; steadying him. Relief rushes to his chest like a wave, crashes into the shore and steadies his shaking hands.

Kaneki may not believe in a god and does not put his faith in prayers but for a moment, he can only be inherently grateful for this small reprieve that the universe has given him. Everything isn't gone.

Glancing at the ruined remains of the red inked pages, he flips through them. He can catch some words here and there, the black ink buried but not gone. A rewrite is needed, he supposes, and can't help the acid burn of hatred in his chest at what he – the monster – had done.

There are snippets in his mind about the words he has written, the chunks of sentences he had laboured over, the paragraphs he had constructed. He can remember some of them, at least, so all is not lost (not yet).

He picks up a pencil, and sets to rewriting the first five pages. At least it's only five pages. It could be fifty or five hundred. For that, he takes what he can get.

Sometimes, it feels like for every step he takes out of madness, he goes back two steps. Where he is so close to achieving something that lies so close to his reach, and then he slips and falls to the ground. It's frustrating. Giving up has crossed his mind countless times but he knows he can't.

There is nothing to be gained if he throws in the towel and lets madness swallows him up whole. There is no glory in spilling out his guts so he has to steel himself, meet whatever obstacles that are thrown into his path.

After all, there are people he must  _protect_ , there are people he must  _remember._

And until then, between him and madness, there shall be no clear winner.

So why…Why can't he write anything down?

He stares at the blank paper in front of him, empty and vacant, waiting for him to inscribe it words and meanings. But he can't. He has a pencil in his grip and sweat drips down his forehead but his mind is drawing up a complete blank.

Those black words in the sea of red are there, glaring at him: Grocery shopping… Mum… Sakura blossoms… Dad's study room… S _asakia Charonda_ … Hide… New friend…

These are just some of the words that he can see, and they all have their own vital memory within them, sparking off an avalanche of thoughts, experiences, sight and sound. It's there in his head.

So why can't he write them down?

He stabs the pencil on the notebook and the graphite lead presses against the expanse, a smudge of grey in the landscape of white paper. Kaneki shifts the pencil, the graphite lead moving smoothly across the paper before snapping cleanly off.

It takes him a moment to realise that he broke his pencil lead and he stares dumbly at the ragged hewn of graphite and the shaky pencil line across the paper.

Marshalling his thoughts, he sharpens his pencils and tries again.

Pencil on the paper. Graphite shifting across _._

_Snap._

Another pencil line and no words.

Again, he tells himself, almost snarls out loud in his frustration.

He furiously sharpens another pencil and brings the pointed lead to the paper. There are memories calling and nudging his hands to move, to write it all out, to give them shape and meaning in the real world beyond the realms of his mind. But no matter how much clarity they possess in his head, he cannot start. Writing. Them. Down.

There is  _nothing._

He has hit a dead end, a brick wall, an impasse.

Rage boils in his veins and the helplessness he feels doesn't solves anything. It doesn't settle the rapid beat of his heart or the ticking of his clock as his time draws near. He knows he must write down something, anything! It doesn't matter if it's just a word or an alphabet but he  _needs_  to write.

There are tears in his eyes as he grips the pencils, sobbing a little as he is unable to call up words to the sensations in his mind. Everything is there; the sight of his mother making another pinwheel for him, bright and colourful in her hands. Other sensations are there too, like the smell of her cooking as she bakes him a cake for his birthday, the delicious scent wafting over the kitchen. There's also the touch of her cool hands on his feverish forehead, the sound of her voice humming a lullaby and the taste of her very own Hokkaido cheese cake recipe that was always the best thing he ever ate.

All these and more, they're all residing in his head begging to be written down.

And he has failed them. Each and every one.

Because he can't even write down a single word, he can't even begin to. He's a failure, he can't do any of them justice. He has been trying so hard all these years and he misses his mum, misses his old home and misses how normal his life was, just a college student going about his life, and he wants to go back again, go back to being safe and warm and protected. He wants his mum so bad it physically hurts, a whole body keening in grief for her.

That's when the pencil snaps into half, the wood breaking in half as the broken edges dangle from his hands.

It broke.

It broke and he can't put it together anymore. He desperately places the two ends together and waits for them to fuse together but of course, it doesn't work like that.

He must look like a fool waiting for them to seal up and form a whole pencil. But the jagged ends scream incompleteness, the seams between the two broken shards looking like a whole chasm that cannot be bridged. The two edges clatter to the table.

His brain goes on a loop,  _he has to fix it, he has to fix it, fix it, fix it._

So Kaneki picks up the two ends of the pencil again and brings it together, a demented version of two dolls and someone is just waiting for the right moment to scream "Kiss!" But that's a childish fantasy, where things were simple and safe. What he has now are just two wooden shards that. Do. Not. Fit.

Kaneki is close to tears at this point, because the pencil is broken and it is not functional. He jabs them together and when the wood grates against one another, chips one and splinters the other, he keeps pushing them together, trying to make them whole.

"Stay together," he sobs, as he tries and fails to make them stick. Rationally, he knows that he can just take another pencil and use it. But something is holding him back, leaves him fixated on this one pencil, holds it in his trembling hands like it's the only thing that matters in this world.

 _Stay together_ , the thought possesses him, grips him with an iron vice and compels him to do what has always escaped him.

Because the broken pencil in front of him isn't just two points of wood, it's his human and ghoul mind broken straight down in the middle and he has been trying to repair the damage ever since. They're two halves of a whole. He can see himself in it, and this is why he is so unwilling to let this go.

This is him.

This is his ghoul and human mind which were once part of a glorious whole.

But something had happened to upset the two conflicting forces, and now his head is a constant battlefield with forces trying to wrestle control over a broken puppet. Of all the things that cut him most, it's the fact nagging at him that it used to be whole. Perfect. Functional.

It embodies his past self; safe and secure in the knowledge of what he thought the world was like, where the sun was in the sky and there was ground beneath his feet. Ever since his mind started fracturing, it was like someone had ripped the carpet out from his feet and he has been lying on the ground ever since, trying to fuse his broken bones sticking out from his flesh.

And because of that, he has too much to lose and nothing to gain in this fight for dominance in his head. He'll always be fighting fighting fighting and he will go down fighting fighting fighting.

The battle has always been to reclaim his past self.

Forcing the two ends of the wooden shards again, he presses them together, grits his teeth and prays to any god out there that'll listen to him,  _Stay together._

He's almost tempted to think he has succeeded and -

_Crack._

The shards drop to the table. All that remains is just a splintered mess of wood chips and graphite powder. It resembled nothing like a pencil, not even two halves of a whole. They've become fragments, too small and broken to even fit together any more.

"No," he whispers, horrified. Backing away, he shakes his head from side to side, "No, no, no, this can't be happening. All I wanted was for them to stay together."

"I-I didn't mean for them to crumble," pleads the boy with so much blood on his hands.

Innocence is such a lovely word. Soft, sweet and gentle. Innocence is safe and harmless, burying you in its familiar embrace and soothing away your nightmares. Innocence is a peaceful night, a pure gleam in your eyes and a bright smile on your face.

Innocence is not screaming nightmares, haunted eyes and a forced smile.

Kaneki is not innocent at all.

Down the worn-out path of sin, there lies madness, beckoning him with a bloody grin. One that promises him no escape, no reprieve and absolutely no solace.

Not for him, the guilty.

The sinner.

The  _damned._

He throws back his head and howls, sharp with grief. Of a whole future lost and a complete past never reclaimed. Of forever being stuck in between them where he'll live the rest of his life teetering on the edge of insanity.

It hits him then, why the words didn't come, why he couldn't pen down his memories on paper even though they exist in clarity in his head. With chilling resignation, he suspects that he is beginning to revert into an animal, a beast that thinks only in sensations, a creature incapable of human language.

Take away the words and the ideas behind them and what do you get?

You get a creature who has a whole world in his head and no voice to speak of it.

You get an animal who thinks in sensations and gut instinct, where images and emotions run rampant and words all but fail to make an impression except for a gibberish of noise.

In the end, you get a misunderstood beast who suffers in silence and breaks from within.

You get Kaneki.

Like a bucket of ice water dousing him from head to toe, a shivering kicks up from his hands and shudders all the way to his shoulders and wounds down to his legs, a full body tremor that has his muscles spasming uncontrollably.

He's tired, really.

It's the same thing happening over and over again and he can't resist the siren song of madness. As much as he knows that he shouldn't do this, his eyelids droop lower and lower and he slumps in the corner. He begins to drift.

Drifting into nothingness.

Images and sensations flit across his mind.

_He falls into the sky and swims in the bowels of the earth._

_A bullet to the brain sends rain over the parched land._

_Blind men see the light of night, and the mute sings songs of sorrow._

_Someone draws out a knife and shoots a dead bird alive._

_Early in the morning of the middle of the night, he silently screams in:_

_**B** _

_**L** _

_**O** _

_**O** _

_**D.** _

_Drip_

_Drip_

**Drop.**

Kaneki jerks awake, and flings himself to the walls. Presses his body against the unyielding concrete and tries to breathe with lungs that suddenly feel too small for him. His heart pounds loudly in his ears, a rush of blood roaring though his blood vessels as his heart beats double-time, so strong he can feel the pulse in his veins.

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump._

"Relax," he gasps.

"It's fine," he breathes out raggedly.

"Calm down," he chokes, desperately trying to curb the rising panic fluttering in his chest.

His breathing is uneven; too fast, too shallow, whistling like the screeching of panic, high pitched with hysteria. A wave of dizziness hits him and the world tilts sickeningly.

Air, he needs more air. Kaneki tries to pull himself up with trembling arms and grabs hold of his chair. Putting his weight on one leg, he wrenches himself up -

\- and slips.

His sweat-slick hands lose their grip on the chair and he crashes to the ground, the impact punching the air out of his lungs once again.

"Gargh!"

His back on the floor, Kaneki faces the ceiling with the light blazing at him. Everything is too bright, the light cutting straight into his brain and sending a bolt of agony up his spine. A blare of horns from the streets becomes an explosion of noise that has him flinching violently. His skin alternates between burning hot and freezing cold as his nerves run amok in this vicious panic attack, sparking chaos in his synapses.

Kaneki makes a pained groan and drags himself towards his phone inch by inch. Sweat drips into his eyes and he blinks the sting away. He has to call...

To call...

His fingers find the familiar device and he clenches it tight. Kaneki doesn't even need to look at the number pad. He quickly dials a number without even looking at the screen until the phone is ringing in his hands.

"Hey what's up, man?" The familiar warm tones of his friend sends a star fire burst of relief in Kaneki's chest. The band of metal around his chest loosens and he sucks in a breath.

"Hey Hide," Kaneki wheezes out and winces when his voice comes out thin and wavering.

"Are you feeling alright, man? You sound really messed up. Please don't tell me you went to watch a horror show and now you're too scared to step out of the house." No one could mistake the worried tone in his voice despite how Hide tried to cover it up.

"I'm…I'm not injured or s-s-sick…" Kaneki chokes out, only to be cut off by his friend.

"But you're not fine." Hide states, as astute as ever.

There is a brief moment of silence where Kaneki grapples with himself, warring with his instincts to just lie through his teeth. Kaneki is not used to people caring about him, and no matter how many times Hide gaily offers his help, Kaneki still feels slightly apologetic for his own weakness.

But if Kaneki can't even trust his childhood friend who has stuck by his side over the years, then who else can he turn to? He doesn't want to lie to Hide, he is so sick and tired of lies, of deceiving his best friends whom, once upon a time, told him  _everything and anything._

And now he can't even tell Hide that he's a ghoul. How things have changed.

"Yeah," Kaneki finds himself letting out another breath, a much more controlled release of air, "I'm not fine."

Hide just tells him, solid as an anchor, "I'm here. Anything you need, just let me know."

There is such a sheer amount of sincerity and willingness in his voice that for a moment, Kaneki has to hold back tears. How he has missed Hide's easy companionship. How long has it been since they last talked like this, one stripped down to his core and the other being a pillar of support?

He's just so grateful for Hide that he has to take in a breath to curb the swell of emotion in his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realises that his heartbeat has steadied to a constant rhythm, steadying under the calming effects of Hide's voice.

Kaneki swallows, "Could you just…uhm." He has to tell himself that it's okay, that this is just warm, safe and peaceful Hide, the one whom he has shared a whole childhood with. "Could you just talk to me?"

"Of course," Hide promises, and true to his word, he speaks of minor things. Trivial useless information that doesn't mean anything to him yet Kaneki finds his muscles loosening, tension draining out of his body. His breaths become more even and the dizziness he feels fade bit by bit.

"…And so he went to the store to get the fruits but the lady at the counter took one look at him…"

Snippets of a normal life, ones he had once taken for granted, just another boy in the crowd going about his life. Kaneki misses them, the simple things, things like going out to grab a meal or hang out with his friends, carefree and relaxed.

This is his past, but somehow, instead of sending him into another frenzy, the fact that Hide is speaking into his ear in his usual manner, brimming with enthusiasm and warmth, sends the panic receding from the edges of his mind into a dull murmur.

"…Kaneki, you will not believe me but remember that girl in high school who used to speak with a stutter and was shy as heck? Well, I saw her the other day and you will not believe this, but I swear she became a completely new person. She was speaking so fluently and eloquently that I think my language proficiency level suffered a heart attack and has been wallowing in despair ever since…"

The constant drone of Hide's voice in his ears is comforting. As the poster boy for introverts, Kaneki remembers being quiet and shy throughout his teenage years. That left plenty of room for Hide to chatter to him, not that he minded one bit. Kaneki was always happy to listen and Hide was always happy to talk to the quiet kid because he knew that he would never find such an interested audience anywhere else.

Listening to the familiar cadences of his voice, Kaneki can almost imagine himself as a young child again, cracking a grin at Hide's one of many lame puns and laughing at the funny incidents Hide always got up to.

"Kaneki? Kaneki, are you listening to me?" Hide demands, sounding rather put out.

"Not really, you're always talking at a million words per minute. How do you expect me to keep up?" The words slip out of his mouth by instinct and Kaneki finds himself cracking a grin. Leave it to Hide to provoke the snarkiness in him. Their relationship was always one on mutual antagonism, a friendly sort of competition that no amount of insults could ever break their bond.

"Clearly, I overestimated your intelligence," Hide drawls, sarcastic as ever.

"For someone who talks a lot, you sure don't seem to realise that I've beaten your exam scores every time."

With mock outrage, Hide replies, "For someone who is so quiet most of the time, you have a tongue sharper than a knife!"

"Will you ever be quiet, Hide?" Kaneki asks, exasperated.

"I am an extremely tactful person who has impeccable manners. Of course I know when to remain silent."

"Really?" Kaneki asks, unimpressed. "You seem to never stop talking – even underwater."

Silence on the other side.

There's a moment where Kaneki flails in panic, wondering if he has offended his best friend when Hide roars with laughter on the other side of the phone.

In between fits of giggling, Hide asks, "Kaneki, seriously? That's the best you can do?"

"What?" Kaneki says defensively, "I thought it was pretty good." Under his breath, he mutters, "At least it was better than that time where you gave me that stupid pick up line to a girl I liked."

Hide overhears his words anyway, and erupts into laughter once more, "Oh god, it was a joke, Kaneki. How was I supposed to know that you were going to use it on a girl? I thought you had more sense than that."

"Well, I didn't have experience with that sort of thing and she seemed like a very nice person." Kaneki snaps. "I didn't know it was a joke. I expected more from you, honestly!"

Hide replies, "And  _I_ expected more from  _you_. Who in the right mind would tell a girl that if she were a booger, they'd pick her first?"

Kaneki sputters, face flaring red as he remembers how embarrassed he was when the girl looked at him after he said that. In his defence, Hide had looked so confident when he told him that. He was so sure it would work.

"I still can remember the look on her face. The shock and the horror. Priceless." Hide chuckles. "You're not mad at me still, right?"

"Well, maybe I still am." Kaneki retorts back.

"That was years ago!" Hide protests.

"And I've been seething with anger at your betrayal ever since."

"Aw, I'm sorry I broke your heart. I'll treat you better next time, I promise. Way better than that girl." Hide purrs back.

Kaneki can imagine the shit-eating grin on Hide's face as he says this, gleeful and childish and so typically Hide. Probably waggling his eyebrows to boost the overall absurdity of the situation. Kaneki rolls his eyes, then realises Hide can't actually see him and replies with resignation, forced to endure years and years of Hide's nonsense. "You are  _ridiculous._ "

"Don't forget awesome. People always forget that, I don't know why. Maybe I should write it on my forehead so that everyone will know of my brilliance."

"Yeah, yeah, write it with permanent marker and we'll see how brilliantly that works out for you."

"How about I write one for you? It's going to say 'Warning: This bookworm is actually a sarcastic asshole'."

That startles a laugh out of Kaneki. "No one would believe you, I'm too much of a decent person – unlike you."

It feels like old times again, the endless teasing and countless jokes. Hide is warmth and joy, not making a big deal out of anything, always accepting of Kaneki's cracked edges and doing the one thing that has eluded Kaneki for a long time: put his mind off the things that he would rather not think about.

Whatever tendrils of panic and hysteria that had gripped him before has long since fade away. Arising from the depths, peace blankets him like a mist. Maybe it's just Hide's presence, warm and sweet and alive, managing to calm him down where nothing else could. He takes in a deep breath, and slowly lets it out.

Kaneki's chest feels impossibly lighter, all of a sudden, light and airy and peaceful.

With a tone filled with mischief, Hide declares, "Kaneki, I know I'm your idol in life. Don't even deny it."

"Yeah right, you're as much as my idol as Stalin and Hitler are mine," Kaneki counters back with a grin.

"Speaking of bad people, how do you make a man holy?"

Even with the distance between them, Kaneki can almost picture Hide's face, alight with anticipation. He's sure that this is going to be some lame joke that Hide has up his sleeves, and now he's just waiting for him to answer wrongly so that he can crow out the punchline to the joke. "I don't know, bring him to church?"

"Nope," Hide says, as smug as a cat lapping a bowl of cream, "You beat the hell out of him."

Kaneki snorts, and yeah.

Definitely lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hide is living proof of the power of friendship to redeem even the most screwed up psyche. And because of that, I'm in the midst of writing a new story about Hide. Stay tuned! (Oh, and there's a Sherlock reference in this chapter because I couldn't resist.) We've also seen how Kaneki has a mental breakdown when he couldn't write anything. Melodramatic, Ken. If you think that's bad, try being an author. Anxiety levels are over 9000. XD
> 
> (I also want to apologise to Tsukiyama for his dignity taking a shitty beating.)
> 
> There's also a new oneshot I written and it features kakuja. Yes, that's the badass upgrade from a kagune. It's similar to The Centipede's Sting, except that it's a oneshot, so you'll have the ending directly. (Whether the ending would be similar to how The Centipede's Sting will end in future, well that's completely up for debate.) Come read all about Kaneki suffering from a kakuja meltdown, spiral deeper into madness and drag Touka deeper into the chaos. If it's not too much trouble, I'd really appreciate it if you can take some time to look at it. You can find it under my TG fic How to love a broken thing (which is a rather misleading name), and the dark oneshot is under Chapter 7: Curse of the Kakuja (which is a much more accurate one.)
> 
> Please leave a review and have a great summer, everyone!


	6. Beneath the Dark Soul (Lies Hope)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE (and I hope you are too.)
> 
> It's been a long time and I apologise for my prolonged absence. In case you're wondering, I'm not abandoning this fic. Never.
> 
> School started in August and from then on, I had no time to even look at this fic, much less write it. I managed to carve out slivers of time to write this chapter bit by bit but it's kinda slow going. But hey, slow and steady wins the race!
> 
> Right now, I feel like slinging my arm over your shoulder and grinning, "Welcome back!" Since we're separated by space and time, have an awkward screen fist bump instead.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta kokofas (ao3) aka charliethespider (ff) for the beta-work :D

 

_Bbbbzzzzztt._

Shutting his eyes tighter, Kaneki buries himself further in his blankets. Overhead, the fan whispers through the air, sending cool breezes swirling around the room. There is the distant noise of the city, muted by the walls around him, so familiar to his ears that it has become a soothing companion. With his blankets wrapped gently around his form, the pillow soft and inviting under his head, he thinks he's not going to move any time soon.

_Bbbbzzzzztt._

A prickle of annoyance flares up at the insistent noise disturbing his sleep. The interruption comes like a spike, slicing the clouds of dreams that hover peacefully around his mind.

_Bbbbzzzzztt._

Yesterday was the first time he managed to get sufficient rest and now a random caller is rudely interrupting him from his beloved sleep. With icy fury, Kaneki decides that the caller can simply go to hell.

 _Bbbbzzzzztt,_ his phone buzzes angrily, sounding like a whole nest of hornets had decided to pay him a morning visit and okay, he's had it. His patience snaps and Kaneki snatches up the offending device from his table.

"What," he hisses into the phone, "do you fucking want?"

"What did you say, Kaneki?" asks Hide in a sunny and bordering-on-homicidal tones.

Kaneki groans. Trust Hide to wake him up just as he was in the midst of his much needed REM sleep. Falling back to bed, Kaneki mutters stormily, "Morning, Hide. Damn, you woke me up, do you know how tired I am?"

"Oh Kaneki, please pardon my friendly morning call. I had no idea you were tired so it's no problem that you used the f word  _on your best friend_ ," Hide says, still in that cheerful tone.

Kaneki's head is still mess of exhaustion and sleep deprivation which would be fine on any other day. With his thoughts crawling around his head like painfully slow slugs, trying to summon a good enough response poses a big problem to him.

But this is Hide on the line, Hide the Detective, Hide the Astute, Hide the one person that can pick apart his lies as easily as breathing.

_Come on, brain, wake up!_

"Oh come on, be a little understanding, okay? I'm really tired." Kaneki complains; because he is not above flat-out whining.

"Says the guy who can't even say a nice little 'Thank you' that his friend is checking up on his well-being. Well fine, Kaneki. Be that way. See if I care."

Kaneki opens his mouth to retort back and yawns instead, huge and cracking. "Back off, I just woke up. Haven't had much sleep."

"I bet sleep isn't the only thing that you've been busy with." Hide teases, before his voice settles into seriousness. "Remember that call yesterday? You sounded really out of it, man. I hope you're feeling better now but you know you can count on me, right? Is there anything I can do to help you?"

It's a probe, Kaneki realises, a probe that's trying to discover what he's been up to as of late. He thinks hysterically that 'going crazy', 'losing my memories' and 'killing people' are probably not the best things that he should say. He can say that there's nothing bothering him, but that's probably akin to sending alarm bells ringing.

The person who says that he's fine is anything but. And the person who says that nothing is bothering him is the one with most to hide. Clearly, the better option would be to give some sort of bait to divert his attention, and make it seem that's all there is. It keeps people from looking too deep.

"I had an exam recently and I think I did pretty badly as I didn't get enough sleep. So if you'll just let me rest a bit I'll be fine," Kaneki says, and wonders when he got so good at lying to his best friend.

"Just ignore that one exam, it can hardly make a dent in your GPA. Come on, I'll treat you to a meal! We can have brunch at Big Girl. Our favourite fast food joint with the best steak in town. Just the two of us. It'll be a date!" Hide crows the last sentence out, before cackling to himself.

It's not until when Kaneki can't think of a good enough excuse that he realises this is Hide's aim all along: get him to admit he has a problem - doesn't matter if it's real or not - Hide just needs an excuse to get him out of his house to meet him face to face, and the rest is simply deductions. That means Kaneki needs to maintain his normal human persona, quell the trembling in his hands and try not to lose it in front of Hide. He thinks he can do it.

He hopes.

He's not too sure.

It's a big risk and, considering how observant Hide is, Kaneki knows that this would be a straight road to disaster. At the corner of his eyes, he notices a bird taking flight in a burst of feathers. It makes a circular sweep around a building before soaring gracefully over a row of houses, swooping past his windows and disappearing out of sight.

Strangely, he's reminded then of Touka's kagune; the dark sprawling mass of it glinting with blood and danger, so at odds with the gentle birds that he usually sees. A little distracted by the image, he says the first thing that comes to mind – "Sorry Hide, I've got a date."

A squawk of outrage and Hide is positively shouting in his ear with disbelief, " _A WHAT?_ "

Kaneki blinks. And blinks some more. He swallows and licks his lips nervously. "You heard me, I have a date."

"Unbelievable! That can't be happening. There's a glitch in the matrix. I'm sure of it. I refuse to believe this," Hide screeches in a decibel unbeknownst to mankind till today.

"Calm down, Hide," Kaneki soothes.

"Calm down? Calm down?! You want me to calm down when my best friend whom I have known for years couldn't even talk to a girl properly without having his face flaring a dark red and kept stammering the entire time, managed to get a date? A  _date? Before me?_ "

Wincing at the unintended jibe, Kaneki replies, "Yes, Hide. I have a date. Now don't be a jealous asshole and let me get ready for it. I really did just wake up."

"Oh, woe is me! What happened to 'bros before hoes'? I am struck down with betrayal." Hide sobs dramatically before reverting back to his normal tone of voice. "Congrats, bro. Who's the lucky girl, eh?"

Now this is just too embarrassing. Kaneki doesn't see Touka in…that way. But neither is she just a friend. If she's not a friend, then she must be… A Really Good Friend!

This is confusing and weird and Kaneki doesn't want to think about this anymore. His cheeks are  _burning_.

"Got to go, Hide. Bye!" He chirps before cutting the call with a sigh of relief.

Throwing himself onto his bed, Kaneki tries to go to back into the Land of Sleep but finds that he can't. The conversation with Hide has drained him more than he's willing to admit and it also uncovered certain emotions towards a particularly feisty waitress that he doesn't want to mull over.

Well. A date. It's not like he has to do it. It's just an excuse to get Hide off his back, that's all. He said it on a whim and there is no reason for him follow through, there's absolutely  _no obligation whatsoever._

(And yet, that doesn't lessen the red flush on his cheeks.)

All he wants to do is to return into the peaceful stillness of his sleep, damn it. Apparently, that's clearly too much to ask because he is still very much awake and blushing like a schoolboy.

With an irritated huff, he turns over on his bed and shuts his eyes, shoving the last five minutes of Hide's conversation into the back of his mind and slamming a steel door shut on it. He'll deal with it later.

Right now, he's going to rest on his nice and comfy bed – or  _not._

The more he tries to squash his thoughts into blankness the more they begin to seep into his conscious mind and trickle down into awareness. They nip at him with sharp teeth and tug at him relentlessly until it feels like there's a whole pack of hungry dogs prowling in his head and oh, this is so not how he wants to start the day.

With a frustrated groan, he gamely admits defeat.

Alright,  _fine._

His head wants to think about her and he might as well go along with the ride. On the topic of Touka…well let's see. His first thoughts are: loud-mouthed, violent, scary, demonic when pissed, extremely brash, likes to pick a fight even in an empty house. These traits may make her a prickly person to be around with, but they also make her a good fighter.

She's fast on her feet but faster with her hits - hardly surprising considering she's an ukaku type. She definitely doesn't go on him easy during their sparring matches even though he's a novice at fighting and she, a skilled combatant. That would certainly account for the array of bruises he received during the first few months of training. He still gets his ass kicked by Touka even now, but he gets his ass kicked  _less_ that's the main point. Touka is a good teacher, a bit harsh but she's quick at pointing out his mistakes and correcting them immediately - which is a good thing, it keeps him from making the same mistakes twice because she has a stormy glare that's perfect for intimidation.

Although the moment her work shift at Anteiku comes up, she transforms into a different person. With a soft smile and a gentle voice, she approaches customers and suggests possible options for their meal. Looking like a sweet and demure girl happily working at a coffee shop, people are charmed by her elegance.

Of course, that image of Touka promptly shatters into a million pieces when he accidentally drops a plate on the floor or spills coffee or any other countless clumsy acts he seems so prone to. The moment Touka's head whips around to face Kaneki, he knows he's well and truly dead meat.

But he digresses.

Beneath her cold exterior lies something softer and warmer, a side that Touka rarely shows anyone except those she trusts. And that, he thinks a little smugly and a lot shyly, includes him.

Ever since his memories started deteriorating, Touka has been the one constant in his life, irreplaceable as the moon and as relentless as the sea. She's patient when he needs her to be, knows the delicate balance of give and take between them, where one wrong can send them tumbling into the realm of no return. Granted, he's not in the best frame of mind and he's liable to snap any time soon but he's grateful, more grateful to her than anyone he has ever met. From trying to find out more about his condition and being by his side throughout the whole ordeal, she has been doing her utmost best to help him. He has nothing to offer her; he has no money and it's definitely not because of his charms – or lack thereof.

Yet, she still soldiered through the incident where he forgot her existence, allowed him to hold her in his arms and find a small pocket of peace – if only for a moment – before the screeching chaos of his mind came screaming back. There were so many times where he could have hurt her now that he thinks about it, countless opportunities where his kagune sang through the blood and whispered at him to spear the wings of a little bird. But he had resisted, time and time again, even though his kagune twitched and scratched beneath his skin.

Without Touka, he would probably earn his title as Eye Patch, not because he wears one over his human eye, but because he would wear one over his gouged out ghoul eye. He remembers just as he was about to embed the knife deep into his ghoul eye in a fit of madness, Touka had burst into his home to stop him before he could do anything drastic. This timeless intervention which almost came too late, ended up saving him and Touka, brave Touka, strong Touka, who never once gave up on him, even suggested writing down his memories in a notebook.

She has done so much for him without asking him for anything.

All he can offer is a lifetime of misery and heartache, madness dripping into every aspect of his life and warping them beyond recognition.

Everything he touches, fades.

Everything he loves, withers.

Everything he is, dying.

What more can he say about his present, much less his future? Truth be told, he has no idea what he can do. Some days feel too overwhelming, where he is drowning from the inside out towards a terrifying, endless future as bleak as despair itself. He's barely hanging on, he has no idea when his cruel persona will resurface again, free from the restrictions of his human life and freer in its actions to do harm for no apparent reason other than to watch people suffer. It's a bloody and sadistic mentality so at odds with his usual self, that it leaves him sick to the bone.

This certainty is what makes his fight for his memories, even if he ends up bruised and battered, the main thing is that he's still fighting. The moment he gives into to the dark tide of despair and falls off the edge of hysteria, that's when he knows he is well and truly gone.

So for Touka to remain, knowing full well the consequences of her actions will lead her to a future choked in thorns and pain, well, it leaves Kaneki touched. The admiration and gratitude that he feels now turns wistful, soft.

 _For all her faults, Touka she is a good person_ , he thinks, and doesn't stop the small smile crossing his face.

Maybe he's been looking at it the wrong way; asking Touka out isn't about dates and romance but more about getting to know her better. What does he know of her anyway? Her past is still shrouded in mystery and what was that that Tsukiyama mentioned? That Touka used to have more ice in her gaze? And of course, what about her brother and her parents? What was it like growing up as a ghoul, hunted by humans everywhere she went and never being able to settle in one place? Did she even have any friends?

There's a sudden desperate longing in him that craves the answers to his questions. He had been too shy to ask her such personal questions and then the madness struck and he was too busy trying to keep himself afloat than to wonder about a girl who never once gave up on him. He wants to know all the facets of her character, every shard of pain, every glinting glass of happiness that makes up the crystalline structure of Touka's personality. He wants to uncover the losses she had endured, soothe away her sorrow and bring peace to her centre just as she did to him.

But right now, Kaneki is not sure how long he has left, how many days of peace and calm left untouched in his calendar but he's not going to let the chance of happiness slip past. He has lost too much to his madness, bits and pieces of his life missing like jagged chunks ripped out from a fabric, but that doesn't mean that he can't rebuild, can't heal, can't move on. Even if whatever he grasps is torn away from his hands, what matters is that he tried and he tried and he never gave up.

Now that, is something worth living for.

So yes, he plans to bring Touka out and there's nothing strange about that. He sees it more as taking the time to express his gratitude that she's here fighting his dark side together. She deserves to remember him not as the monster he is becoming (will become), but as Kaneki Ken, a shy college undergraduate with a love of good literature and good coffee.

That, he is sure, is something that he can give to her willingly and happily. He shakes off any hesitation he feels and reaches for his phone.

It's now or never.

He sits up from his bed, fired up with purpose and determination. Touka, Hide and everyone at Anteiku, these are the people he must  _protect_ , these are the people he must  _remember._

Perhaps it is time for him to step out from the fear overshadowing his life and meet them (for the one last time). He knows that he needs to reconnect with his friends and get back what the madness took away. He can't stay like this forever, cooped up in his house and living in the shadows of his mind. To find his friends again and just talk to them, enjoying whatever vestiges of normality he once possessed is something that he will hold close and cherish. Kaneki swears that nothing will take away these precious people from him.

In the back of his mind, a dark thing stirs, ' _Are you sure?'_

Kaneki shuts his eyes and tells himself that he does not hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to upload this chapter before school started in August, but I got side-tracked by another TG oneshot with Hide in it, titled 'This Living Flame (Has No Burning Heart)' which I wrote back in July. Anyway, both that fic and this chapter has been uploaded so here we are now.
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me and reading this chapter. I'll be uploading the next chapter (admittedly, a very short 1K chapter) in the next week, since it's almost done and I just need to touch up a few things.
> 
> In any case, I hope life has been treating you all well. Feel free to leave a comment on what you're up to. I'd bet it'll be more fun than me slogging through piles of homework.
> 
> Cheers! :D


	7. Blush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta kokofas (ao3) for the beta!
> 
> Due to some unfortunate events, I'm afraid I've not been replying to any messages or uploading lengthy chapters. Please excuse my less than stellar performance. As for messages and reviews, I WILL reply everyone of you but I shall take some time. In any case, THANK YOU for your support/random comments/spontaneous conversation/hilarious quips/honest thoughts/etc. I'm just real glad and extremely grateful for you all. :)

 

He is Kaneki Ken, known as Eyepatch to the CCG, with one of the most powerful rinkaku kagune with extraordinary regenerative abilities, and he is scared. Really scared. Out of his mind scared.

And it's ridiculous, that's what it is.

Here he is, suffering from memory cannibalization, having his ghoul side devouring his human memories bit by bit, his darker impulses slowly taking over him and he has killed his best friends but only  _now_  is he scared.

And it's not even for his memories.

It's something entirely stupid and entirely ridiculous, yet his palms are damp with sweat and his breathing is erratic.

In his hand, the phone rings and rings, and he's hoping the person on the other end won't pick up because this is entirely  _mortifying._

Why the hell is he doing this again?

Ah right, because he's going crazy and he needs to settle whatever he needs to settle before he tips over the goddamn edge forever.

The phone line picks up and his stomach plummets all the way down to his feet.

"Kaneki, are you alright?" Touka says with dread.

"Err..." Kaneki stammers, before he shuts his mouth with a click of his teeth.  _Come on, you can do this_ , he mentally bolsters himself amidst his hammering heart. "Uhhh hey, Touka." He winces.

Touka's voice is frantic, immediately assuming the worst has happened. "Kaneki, are you alright? Do you need me to come over? What happened? Was it another breakdown?"

"Um...I called you...b-b-because I...uhhhh..."

"Kaneki." Touka becomes even more worried for the male's sanity. "If you need help, I'll be down at your flat immediately. But I can't help you if you're not going to tell me what on earth is going on."

"Uhhh it's like this, actually. I-I-I... You know I'm not exactly f-f-ine now right? I'm a bit...m-m-messed up."

"Yes?" Touka sounds genuinely puzzled and he can't fault her. He's not exactly nailing any of this.

"And you've been v-v-very helpful and ummm..." Kaneki swallows. "Very understanding with me."

"Uh okay?" Her worry draining away, absolute confusion is now running rampant in Touka's mind.

"And so, well, I uhh was thinking about it. And I did think- a lot actually. Like hours and days of deliberation. Just thinking."

By now, Touka has ascertained that this call is not an emergency and whatever Kaneki is trying to tell her is a jumble of words that make no sense to her at all. It also doesn't help that she's actually working now. She had headed to the backroom in the middle of her work shift to pick up the call when she saw the caller ID but what she expected to be a emergency call is slowly turning into a joke.

"Kaneki," she says exasperatedly, "What the hell is going on?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Kaneki wills his trembling hands to stop shaking. He has to hold back a bite of hysterical laughter. He's Kaneki Ken and his whole life is a mess right now and he can't even do one simple thing.

"Touka," he forces out, "Are you free later on in the afternoon?"

"My workshift ends at 1pm so...yes?"

"Well," he shuts his eyes and prays to god that he will not regret saying this, "Would you like to hang out with me?"

When Touka does not reply for close to ten agonising seconds, Kaneki knows he needs to backtrack. Fast.

"I mean, I need to pass you some notes. For classical literature, remember? And study guides. You can have them and ummm... Yeah, they'll help you in your studies." He finishes lamely, positively wincing at this point. This is was not how he envisioned it to go.

There's a long drawn-out sigh on the other end and Touka's voice is flat and unimpressed. "Kaneki, did you just ask me out on a date under the pretence of studying?"

His cheeks are burning now, he can feel it flaming into a vivid red and he's thankful that at least he didn't do this in person. The mere thought of physically approaching Touka for that sends a shiver of horror up his spine. Trust Touka to see through his - admittedly very flimsy - excuse.

His voice box isn't willing to cooperate and it comes out as a squeak instead. "Uh yes?" He tries not to sound nervous and fails anyway.

There's a muttering that sounds suspiciously like "I'm dealing with an idiot." Before Kaneki can open his mouth to ask what that was about, Touka sighs again and says, "Whatever. 2pm at the station. Don't be late, shithead."

The phone cuts off abruptly, leaving Kaneki to stare open-mouthed at his phone, gaping in shock.

Did she...did Touka...? Could it be…Was it possible…?

Okay -  _what just happened?_

Kaneki blinks and blinks some more, before it occurs to him that he can put down the phone now.

So. 2pm. Today.

A  _date._

No, not a date, he tells himself. It's to get to know Touka better and appreciate all that she has done for him. Staring stupidly at the phone in his hand, he knows that even though he has noble aspirations for this meetup, his mind seems to run off on its own course and shrieking 'It's a date' repeatedly. So much for his inspiring mental talk just now. What happened to revealing the 'crystalline structure' of her personality, finding 'every shard of pain' and 'glinting glass of happiness'?

In retrospect, it all sounds stupid.

Still, it doesn't stop the flutter of anticipation in his stomach, thinking about him and Touka talking together.

He looks at the clock: 12PM, and he looks down at his crumpled clothes, winces at his clothes in his closet and decides that he is really quite screwed.

Looking for clothes to wear shouldn't be so hard. It's just one shirt and one pair of pants, that's all. He briefly considers asking Tsukiyama for help before snorting and swiftly discarding the idea. He wants to dress sensibly, not extravagantly.

With a sigh, Kaneki bangs his head against the table. He is so not ready for this.  _At all._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the next chapter is called 'Two's company, three's a crowd'. Big hint that someone's going to be tagging along with Kaneki and Touka. It could be:
> 
> A) Tsukiyama the purple hair freak. Date would include random spazzing moments with Kaneki while Touka rolls her eyes and labels all of them as idiots.
> 
> B) Hide the super-sleuth. Tags along with his best friend Kaneki and actively engages in conversation with Touka to know more about her. Cue jealous Kaneki.
> 
> C) Hinami the Touken supporter. Spends the time trying to push Touka and Kaneki together into a relationship.
> 
> D) None of the above 3 choices.
> 
> (Thank you for reading and do take care. Until next time.)


End file.
